LIBRARY 

UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA 
DAVIS 


TEN  YEARS 

A    COWBOY. 


*  ^w^=^^ 

^'%^ 


BY    C.     C.     POST 

ADDENDA 
BY 

TEX  BENDER,  THE  COWBOY  FIDDLER 

THOS.    W.    JACKSON    PUBLISHING    COMPANY 

CHICAGO  : 
(Successors  to  Rhodes  &  McClure  Publishing  Company) 


LIBRARY 

UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA 
DAVIS 


Entered  according  to  act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  1898,  by  the 

RHODES  &  MCCLURE  PUBLISHING  COMPANY, 
in  the  Office  of  the  Librarian  of  Congress,  Washington,  D.  C. 

All  Rights  Reserved 


CONTENTS. 


1TIE  STORY,  ROMANCE  AND  ADVENTURES  OF  A  1.IFE 
ON  THE  PLAINS  WITH  THE  VARIED  EXPERIENCES 
AS  COW-BOY,  STOCK-OWNER,  RANCHER,  &c.  &c. 
PAGES 17  to  358 

PAGE 

THE  PLAINS.  359 

From  the  Missouri  River  to  the  Rocky  Mountains 363 

The  Trees 365 

The  Herbage * 367 

The  Buffalo 369 

The  Indian  ^V  amor  and  his  Pony -  .371 

The  Insects , 374 

The  Mirage 375 

Water v  ....  377 

The  Wichita  Mountains 378 

The  Indian 380 

CATTLE.  385 

The  Gains  in  Cattle  Ranching 386 

How  to  start  in  the  Cattle  Business 387 

The  Stock  Country . '. , „ 389 

The  Cattle  Ranches 389 

Settlers' Rights 390 

The  Dashing  Cow-Boy 391 

Cattle  on  the  Ranges 392 

Cattle  in  Winter 393 

Advantages  of  Cattle  over  Horse-Raising 394 

TheRourid-Up 395 

Movricks 395 

Cutting-Out 398 

The  Cow-Ponies 397 

Branding  Calves 399 

Branding  Cattle ..403 

On  the  Trail... 406 


CONTENTS.  PAGE 

Night  Watching ...408 

Shipping  by  Bail 410 

The  Journey  to  Chicago 412 

Queens  of  the  Ranch 415 

California  as  a  Cattle  Raising  State 417 

California  Laws 419 

Water  Rights  v 420 

Profits  on  Cattle-Raising  in  Texas,  as  the  Business  was 

formerly  Conducted 422 

Profits  on  Cattle  Raising  as  at  present  Conducted 424 

Advice  to  the  Cowboys - 427 

SHEEP.  429 

Sheep  Driving 429 

Spanish  Merinos 430 

Certificate  for  Taxes 431 

The  Outfit.. 431 

Taking  Horses  through  the  Mountains 433 

Hiring  Drivers 434 

Sheep  Shearing 437 

On  the  Road 437 

Scab ...,.439 

Dipping 439 

Sheep  Driving  from  California  to  Sonora 443 

Tolls 446 

Crossing  the  Sierras 448 

The  Bedding  Ground 450 

The  San  Antonio  451 

Driving  Sheep  in  Nevada 453 

Jb'oodiu  Camp 453 

The  Cook's  Duties 454 

Clothing 455 

Bathing 457 

Beds 458 

Temperature. 459 

Sleeping  in  Camp ,460 

Shepherd  Dogs 462 

Prairie  Dogs 465 

Driving  Sheep  in  Idaho 466 

The  Laramie  Plains , .  .467 

NearSaltLake 468 

How  to  make  money  in  Utah , 469 


TEN  YEARS  A  COW  BOY. 


CHAPTER  I. 

A   LITTLE   OLD   TOWN    ON   THE   WABASH. 

A  few  years  ago  when  even  in  the  middle  Western 
States  land  was  to  be  had  for  the  taking,  a  bit  of  a  town 
pre-empted  a  site  on  the  banks  of  the  Wabash  river,  in 
the  State  of  Indiana,  and  proceeded  to  establish  itself 
and  settle  down  to  business,  squatter  fashion. 

I  say  squatter  fashion  because  it  took  on  the  air  of  not 
being  very  certain  of  its  claim  to  permanent  ownership, 
and  so  not  eager  to  make  improvements  beyond  such  as 
were  necessary  to  its  immediate  wants. 

This  feeling  about  permanency  of  title  may  have 
been  owing  to  the  fact  that  the  Wabash  was  a  river  of 
unsteady  habits,  and  liable  to  get  on  a  rampage  at 

(17) 


1 8  THE   LITTLE   OLD  TOWN   ON   THE   WABASH. 

periods  more  or  less  frequent  and  unexpected,  de' 
pending  somewhat  upon  the  state  of  the  weather  and 
other  causes.  This,  you  understand,  was  before  the 
government  had  established  a  bureau  at  the  national 
capital  with  orders  to  regulate  the  weather,  and  so 
render  such  conduct  on  the  part  of  the  Wabash  and 
other  streams  of  similar  habits  entirely  without 
excuse. 

But,  whatever  the  reason  may  have  been,  the 
town  always  had  the  appearance  of  having  no  per 
manency  of  title  to  the  site  it  had  fixed  upon.  The 
streets — if  you  choose  to  call  them  streets — were 
wide  enough,  and  they  would  have  been  beautiful 
plots  of  green  if  it  had  not  been  that  they  were 
white  instead,  white  with  mayweed,  except  where 
the  hogs  rooted  holes  in  the  earth  for  purposes  of 
their  own;  for  the  town  did  not  keep  its  hogs  shut 
up.  So  great  was  the  people's  sense  of  personal  lib 
erty  in  this  village  of  wide  spaces,  that  there  were 
none  among  the  inhabitants  who  had  ever  suggested 
an  abridgment  to  the  unlimited  freedom  of  the  hogs. 
On  the  contrary,  they  were  permitted  to  wander  about 
at  their  own  sweet  will,  and  they  put  in  their  time 
about  equally  in  hunting  for  such  food  as  was  to  be 
found  in  the  river  bottom,  and  in  maintaining  their 
rights  as  free  and  independent  citizens,  by  rooting  up 
the  streets,  and  such  apologies  for  gardens  as  the  people 


KITTLE  OLD  TOWN  ON  THE  WABASH.         19 

/elt  incumbent  on  themselves  to  attempt  making,  for 
the  town  was  not  more  thorough  in  its  manner  of 
fencing  in  its  gardens  and  yards  than  in  anything  else. 
A  fence  of  "palms,"  thin  strips  of  timber  split  from 
some  straight  grained  ash  or  oak  tree,  and  pointed  at 
the  end,  was  occasionally  erected  about  a  bit  of  ground, 
being  nailed  on  perpendicularly,  pointed  end  upward, 
and  an  attempt  at  the  cultivation  of  what  was  called  a 
"truck  patch"  made.  But  as  nails  were  scarce  and 
high,  and  the  town  did  not  know  exactly  how  long  it 
was  going  to  stay  there,  these  palings  were  seldom 
securely  fastened,  and  appeared  as  if  put  there  for  the 
purpose  of  affording  the  hogs  amusement  for  their 
leisure  hours  in  rooting  them  off,  more  than  for  any 
real  protection  to  the  vegetables  planted  within  the  in- 
closures. 

There  were  several  dogs,  also,  and  children,  con 
nected  with  the  town.  I  do  not  think  I  ever  quite 
understood  what  the  town  considered  to  be  the  rights 
or  duties  of  the  children,  or  whether  they  were  supposed 
to  have  any,  but  those  of  the  dogs  were  plainly  to  be 
perceived  by  any  one  at  all  observant  of  such  things. 
Their  duties  were  to  assist  the  hogs  out  of  the  truck 
patch  whenever  they  wandered  in  and  were  unable,  in 
the  excitement  of  the  moment,  to  find  their  own  way 
out  at  the  hole  by  which  they  entered;  this,  and  to 
stand  in  front  of  the  houses  and  welcome  any  chance 


2O  A  DIFFERENCE  IN   DUTIES. 

stranger  who  sought  an  interview  with  the  town  tor  any 
purposes.  I  think  they  also  assisted  at  th&  obsequies 
of  such  game  as  the  inhabitants  secured  from  time  to 
time  from  out  the  surrounding  woods  or  adjoining 
prairie.  And  as  for  their  rights,  why  they  were  the 
same  as  those  of  the  other  citizens,  which  appeared  to 
consist  principally  in  sitting  around  discussing  the  proba 
bility  of  another  rise  in  the  Wabash,  and  occasionally 
going  out  to  a  cornfield  on  the  outskirts  and  spending  a 
half  day  or  so  in  cutting  down  weeds  and  chasing 
squirrel  and  chipmunk  depredators  on  the  aforesaid 
cereal. 

There  was  one  other  difference  between  the  apparent 
duties  of  the  men  and  the  dogs  which  I  ought  to 
mention  ;  the  dogs  did  not  fish  and  the  men  did.  The 
men  appeared  to  think  it  a  duty  to  fish,  and  would 
frequently  sit  a  half  day  at  a  time  upon  a  log  in  the 
sun,  holding  a  pole  with  a  line  attached  when  it  was 
too  hot  to  hoe  corn  or  weed  the  truck  patch  ;  some 
thing  the  dogs  never  did.  On  such  occasions  the  dogs 
usually  lay  in  the  shade  and  caught  fleas,  which  was 
perhaps  their  fair  share  of  the  labor.  I  think  neither 
could  boast  greatly  over  the  other  of  the  success  at 
tending  their  efforts ;  the  men  and  boys  certainly  caught 
a  great  many  fish,  but  then  the  dogs  also  secured  a  great 
many  fleas. 

I  never  knew  for  certain   why  the   town  remained 


THE  FERRY.  31 

there.  May  be,  after  all,  it  had  a  clear  title  to  the  site 
on  which  it  stood.  It  was  not  a  very  big  town  ;  a  dozen 
or  score  of  houses,  most  of  them  of  logs,  some  of  rough 
boards,  some  a  mixture  of  the  two,  one  part  being  of 
logs,  with  a  crazy  little  lean-to  of  boards  at  the  back, 
some  whitewashed,  but  more  with  the  color  which 
nature  and  the  elements  had  given  them. 

Looking  back  at  it  now  I  more  than  half  believe  that 
what  made  the  town  stay  there  was  the  ferry. 

This  might  seem  to  have  furnished  good  reason  why 
it  should  not  stay  there,  since  it  could  evidently  have 
gotten  away  by  means  of  the  ferry  if  it  wanted  to.  But 
I  do  not  think  it  wanted  to. 

May  be  it  would  have  done  so  if  it  had  thought  of  it, 
but  if  so  it  was  evident  that  the  thought  had  never  come 
to  it;  the  town  was  not  greatly  given  to  thinking,  but  I 
do  not  really  believe  the  reason  for  its  staying  was  that 
it  never  occurred  to  it  that  it  could  go  by  way  of  the 
ferry  if  it  wanted  to.  Possibly  it  expected  the  Wabash 
to  rise  high  enough  some  time  to  take  it  away  and  so 
save  it  the  trouble  of  going;  I  can  not  say  positively  as 
to  that.  I  am  inclined  to  think  it  stayed  because  it  liked 
to  stay. 

And  why  not  ? 

In  the  first  place,  it  was  a  good  location  for  such  a 
town. 

There  was  the  river  with  plenty  of  fish  to  be  had  for 


32  AND  THE   FERRY   BOAT* 

the  taking;  the  woods  upon  its  banks  abound* A  with 
game,  and  was  also  a  capital  range  for  hogs  In  the 
prairie,  a  bit  back  from  the  river,  the  prairie,  chickens 
raised  their  young  and  waxed  fat.  There  were  sand 
banks  for  the  children  to  play  upon;  there  was  the 
periodical  rise  in  the  river,  not  to  speak  of  passing  flat> 
boats  and  an  occasional  steamer  to  furnish  topics  for 
discussion.  And  then  there  was  the  ferry — the  ferry, 
which  gave  the  dignity  and  importance  to  the  town  and 
a  reputation  throughout  the  country  for  miles  on  both 
sides  of  the  river.  Yes,  I  think  it  was  the  ferry  which 
kept  the  town  contented  and  happy  and  prevented  any 
disposition  on  its  part  to  wander  away. 

The  ferry  boat  was  not  unlike  other  ferries — the 
boat  part  of  it,  I  mean.  It  consisted  of  what  was 
known  in  those  days  as  a  "flatboat;"  a  low,  flat  boat 
constructed  of  strong  timbers  heavily  planked  over,  and 
slightly  turned  up  at  either  end,  like  the  front  end  of 
the  implement  known  among  farmers  as  a  stoneboat, 
and  used  by  them  to  draw  stone  off  their  fields.  It 
swung  from  shore  to  shore  by  the  force  of  the  current. 
There  was  a  line  of  canoes,  perhaps  a  dozen  in  number, 
(the  one  farthest  away  only  being  fastened  to  a  stake 
driven  securely  into  the  earth  at  the  bottom  of  the 
river,  midway  between  banks  and  some  twenty  rods 
above  the  ferry.  To  this  canoe  was  attached,  by 
means  of  long  ropes  and  at  equal  distances  from  each 


MISTER  M'KINLRY.  as 

other,  other  canoes,  the  last  of  which  was  in  turn  at 
tached  by  a  rope  to  the  ferry  or  flatboat,  which  in 
size  was  perhaps  ten  or  fifteen  feet  wide  by  twenty 
long.  Now  when  the  ferry  boat  was  pushed  out  from 
either  bank,  the  force  of  the  current  would  tend  to  carry 
it  down  stream  in  a  straight  line,  but  being  held  from 
above  by  the  long  line  of  canoes  and  their  attachments, 
it  could  only  swing  in  a  circle.  The  water,  pressing 
both  against  the  side  of  the  larger  boat  and  of  the 
canoes  attached  to  it,  propelled  it  to  the  middle  of  the 
stream  with  considerable  velocity,  sufficient,  when  the 
water  was  high,  to  compel  it  to  make  the  other  quarter 
of  the  circle  and  bring  up  at  a  point  on  the  other  shore 
exactly  opposite  from  where  it  started,  when  it  would  be 
made  secure  by  a  chain  thrown  over  a  strong  post  set  in 
the  ground.  Then  a  plank  would  be  pushed  out,  upon 
which  passengers  and  teams  could  walk  dry  shod  to  the 
land. 

If  the  river  was  low,  and  the  current  failed  to 
bring  the  boat  quite  to  shore,  as  it  sometimes  did 
fail  of  doing,  the  person  in  charge  was  ready,  standing 
in  the  stern  of  the  boat,  to  push  it  ashore  with  a  long 
pole. 

Now  this  ferry  belonged  to  a  person  by  the  name 
of  McKinley.  Mister  McKinley  he  was  called;  and 
he  was  the  only  citizen  of  the  town  who  was  ever 
honored  by  having  this  prefix  attached  to  his  name; 


24  MISTER  M'KINLEY. 

which  fact  argues  that  Mr.  McKinley  was  a  man  of  im 
portance  and  influence  in  the  community,  as  indeed  t\9 
was. 

For,  was  he  not  the  owner  of  the  ferry  from  which 
the  town  received  its  dignity,  and  upon  which  it  de 
pended  for  its  fame  ?  Had  he  not  held  communication 
with  the  dignitaries  of  the  State  itself  and  been  granted 
authority — legal  authority — to  run  the  ferry,  as  afore 
said  ?  And  did  he  not  have  proof  of  the  fact  in  the 
shape  of  a  paper,  printed  in  three  or  four  sizes  of  type, 
signed  by  the  secretary  of  State,  tied  with  a  red  ribbon 
and  sealed  with  the  great  seals  of  the  States  both  of 
Illinois  and  of  Indiana,  declaring  that  '  'having  confidence 
in  the  patriotism  and  integrity  of  Mr.  William  H.  H. 
McKinley,  he  is  hereby  granted  authority,  etc.,  to  run  a 
ferry  across  the  Wabash  river,  etc.,  etc.;  the  same 
being  a  river  navigable  by  boats,  etc.,  etc.,  and  also  con 
stituting  the  boundary  line  between  the  two  States,  as 
aforesaid  ?" 

This  charter  Mr.  McKinley  had  had  framed  and 
hung  up  in  the  rough  porch  in  front  of  the  log  cabin  in 
which  he  lived  with  his  family  of  six,  not  counting  the 
dogs,  which  would  have  raised  it  to  a  round  dozen  at 
least. 

This  cabin  of  McKinley's  stood  near  the  banks  of 
the  river,  on  the  Indiana  side;  the  banks  on  this 


MISTER  M'KINLEY.  25 

side  being  several  feet  higher  than  on  the  other 
side. 

The  house  was  only  a  few  rods  from  the  ferry  land 
ing,  and  any  one  entering  the  cabin  could  hardly  fail  to 
observe  the  charter  where  it  hung  in  its  frame  by  the 
door. 

The  children  used,  when  it  was  first  hung  there, 
to  come  about  the  porch  and  gaze  up  at  it  in  open- 
mouthed  wonder  and  silent  awe,  and  go  away  with 
minds  full  of  imaginings  of  the  many  great  things 
Mr.  McKinley  must  have  done  to  cause  the  authorities 
of  two  States  to  certify  to  their  confidence  in  and  ad 
miration  of  him,  to  be  to  the  trouble,  too,  of  having 
it  printed  in  big  letters  and  little  ones,  and  putting 
the  great  seals  of  the  States  upon  it,  so  that  no  one 
might  so  much  as  dare  to  doubt  that  its  possessor  was 
indeed  a  great  man,  having  the  confidence  of  all  of 
the  great  men  of  the  country — one  to  whom  it  was 
proper  and  right  should  be  given  exclusive  authority 
to  run  a  ferry  boat  and  charge  people  for  riding 
on  it. 

Of  course  such  a  man  must  never  be  addressed 
too  familiarly,  hence  the  children  always,  and  the  men 
generally,  addressed  him  as  Mister  McKinley. 

Occasionally,  some  man  in  whose  cranial  develop 
ment  there  was  a  hollow  where  his  bump  of  reverence 
should  have  been,  would  speak  to  him  as  "McKinley," 


26  MISTER  M'KINLEY. 

simply,  or  even  as  "Mack,"  but  he  seldom  appeared 
to  hear  when  thus  spoken  to,  and  children  hearing  him 
thus  addressed  would  drop  whatever  employment 
they  were  engaged  in  and  look  and  listen,  and  seem 
to  wonder  whether  Mister  McKinley  would  feel  suf 
ficiently  offended  to  ask  the  authorities  to  mete  out 
proper  punishment  to  the  man  who  thus  failed  to 
render  the  respect  due  to  him  in  whom  the  State  re 
posed  such  unbounded  confidence  and  desired  to  see 
honored. 

Children  are  quick  to  catch  the  spirit  of  the  teach 
ings  of  their  elders,  and  in  proportion  as  their  imagin 
ations  are  more  active  and  their  knowledge  of  the  world 
more  limited  than  those  of  older  persons,  so  are  they 
more  intensely  affected  by  the  things  which  they  see  and 
hear.  To  the  children  of  this  little  town  upon  the 
banks  of  the  Wabash  the  State  represented  all  earthly 
authority  and  power  and  dignity;  and  knowing  nothing 
of  its  duties  or  limitations,  and  nothing  of  legal  forms 
or  customs,  they  regarded  any  one  who  had  held  com 
munication  with  it,  or  been  given  any  commission  under 
it,  as  partaking  in  a  very  great  degree  of  the  grandeur 
which  in  their  minds  attached  to  it,  and  they  looked 
upon  such  a  one  as  entitled  to  demand  about  what 
he  chose  from  other  people,  in  the  way  of  homage  at 
least. 

If  any  shall  say  that  reverence  for  their  fellow- 


MISTER  M'KINLBY.  2/ 

men  or  being  greater  or  more  worthy  of  honor  than 
themselves,  is  not  a  feeling  natural  in  man,  or  that 
by  nature  every  man  is  inclined  to  regard  himself 
as  possessing  equal  rights  with  every  other  man,  I 
answer,  that  possibly  it  may  be  as  you  say  some 
time — when  generations  have  come  and  gone  in  which, 
from  the  cradle  to  the  grave,  men  shall  have  been 
taught  by  society,  both  by  precept  and  practice,  that 
all  are  at  birth  "equal  before  the  law — but  at  present 
the  belief  of  past  generations  in  the  divine  right  of 
some  to  better  birth  than  others  shows  itself  in  our 
children,  and  causes  them  not  only  to  yield  to 
oppression  too  easily,  but  to  regard  with  awe  and 
reverence  any  who  put  forth  a  claim  to  superiority  of 
birth,  or  to  having  been  given  authority  by  those  en 
titled  to  exercise  it. 

And  so  these  barefooted,  straw-hatted  (when  they 
had  any  hats  at  all),  and  linsey-clad  children  ac 
knowledged  the  claim  to  honor  and  dignity  put  for 
ward  by  the  man  to  whom  the  State  had  granted  a 
commission  to  charge  for  ferrying  people  across  the 
Wabash,  as  being  natural  and  proper.  They  may, 
and,  I  think,  did  assist  in  increasing  the  estimate 
which  Mr.  McKinley  at  first  felt  disposed  to  put 
upon  the  honor  done  him,  by  the  readiness  with 
which  they  acknowledged  his  claim  to  be  valid  and 
proper. 


28          THE  BOATMAN  OF  THE  FERRY. 

Be  this  as  it  may,  Mr.  McKinley  enjoyed  the  dignity 
of  his  position  and  the  honor  accredited  him  of  being 
the  only  man  in  the  community  with  a  prefix  to  his 
name,  and  being  contented  with  the  honor  he  left  the 
work  of  running  the  ferry  to  any  other  member  of  the 
family  who  chose  to  attend  to  it. 

At  first  most  frequently  it  was  his  wife  who  shoulder 
ed  this  duty  in  addition  to  the  care  of  her  household. 
Then  the  oldest  of  the  children  began  to  perform  this 
service,  and  finally  and  by  degrees  the  sole  charge  of  the 
business  was  given  over  to  her,  or  rather  appeared  to 
settle  about  and  devolve  upon  her  naturally  ;  probably 
from  the  fact  that  no  matter  what  the  weather,  or  the 
state  of  the  water  in  the  river,  she  was  always  ready  to 
answer  the  call  of  any  one  who  desired  to  be  set  across, 
and  equally  skillful  and  courageous  in  the  management 
of  the  boat. 

I  say  "she,"  for  the  boatman  of  the  ferry  was  a 
girl. 

At  the  time  of  my  introducing  her  to  the  reader 
she  was  nearly  thirteen  years  old,  tall,  slim,  graceful 
in  her  motions  as  one  of  the  willows  which  leans  over 
the  river  and  dips  its  twigs  in  the  clear  water  just  below 
the  landing  there,  and  equally  as  unconscious  of  the 

fact. 

See   her   now   as,    standing    upon  the  stern  of  the 


THE  BOATMAN  OF  THE  FERRY.  29 

ferry,  she  exerts  her  strength  to  push  it  well  up  to 
the  landing  with  the  flatboat  pole.  Her  feet  are  bare, 
and  feet  and  ankles  are  tanned  as  brown  as  that  dead 
leaf  floating  with  the  current  there.  Her  sun  bonnet 
has  been  thrown  aside  ;  her  arms  are  bare  and  brown 
half  way  to  the  shoulder,  and  a  mass  of  soft  brown 
hair  that  would  curl  beautifully,  if  only  it  had  proper- 
attention,  hangs  about  her  neck  and  shoulders.  See 
now,  as  she  bends  her  supple  body  to  the  work  of 
forcing  the  boat  ashore,  how  like  to  the  willow  she 
is.  Yes,  that  is  she.  That  is  Nettie  McKinley,  or 
"Net,"  as  she  is  familiarly  called,  for  the  reverence 
which  attaches  to  her  father  as  being  commissioned 
by  two  States  to  run  a  ferry  boat  does  not  descend 
to  her  who  runs  it.  Familiarity,  you  know,  is  the 
road  by  which  dignity  vacates  the  premises.  If  Mr. 
McKinley  was  to  run  the  ferry  and  speak  cheerfully 
and  laugh  and  chat  with  everybody  who  crossed  with 
him  as  his  daughter  does — great  man  though  he  is — . 
he  would  prove  the  truth  of  my  saying  and  cease  to  be 
addressed  with  more  respect  than  that  bestowed  upon 
his  fellow  villagers,  and  the  evidence  of  his  being  a 
great  man,  and  wise  withal,  lies  in  the  fact  that  he  does 
not  run  the  ferry,  and  does  not  permit  people  to  address 
him  too  familiarly. 

And  now  let  me  introduce  another  friend  of  mine  ; 
one  whom  you  must  know  if  you  are  to  go   with  me  to 


30  PHILIP,  PHINEAS,    PHILANDER. 

the  end  of  this  story,  from  the  Wabash  to  the  Rio 
Grande,  and  maybe  back  again.  Dear  reader,  I  present 
to  you  the  three  P's,  Phineas  Philip  Philander  Johnson, 
eldest  born  of  Mathilda  S.  and  Abraham  T.  Johnson, 
aged  fourteen. 

I  say  eldest  born,  but  there  is  some  question  about 
that,  as  also  whether  he  is  most  Phineas  or  Philander  or 
Philip. 

It  all  comes  about  in  this  way  : 

He  was  one  of  triplets  born  to  the  Johnsons  two 
years  after  the  town  was  located  and  the  same  spring 
that  the  ferry  was  established.  When  it  became 
"norrated  'round,"  to  use  an  expression  common  to  the 
residents  along  the  Wabash  and  in  some  other  localities 
as  well  ;  when  it  became  "norrated  'round"  that  Mrs. 
Johnson  had  three  babies,  all  born  on  the  same  day 
and  all  boys,  every  married  woman  withia  ten  miles  of 
the  ferry  struck  straight  out  for  the  Johnsons'  the 
moment  they  heard  of  it  ;  and  every  one  of  them 
when  they  saw  the  new  arrivals  declared  that  they 
''looked  as  near  alike  as  three  peas  in  a  pod  ;"  and  old 
man  Johnson,  who  had  a  touch  of  the  humorous  in 
his  composition,  finally  declared  that  that  was  what 
they  should  be,  and  straghtway  named  them  Philip, 
Phineas  and  Philander,  but  when  some  one  asked 
him  which  was  Philip  and  which  the  others,  he  re 
plied  that  "he  had  not  decided  yet,  and  it  didn't 


OR  THE  THREE   P'S.  31 

make  no  difference  no  way,  since  nobody  could  tell 
tother  from  which,  but  as  soon  as  they  got  growed  up  a 
bit  he  'lowed  to  separate  'em  out  and  mark  'em,  and 
have  the  mark  recorded  same's  they  do  calves  and 
pigs." 

But  alas  and  alack  !  two  of  the  innocents  crossed 
over  to  the  land  of  eternal  sunshine  before  a  short  month 
had  gone  by  ;  and  as  no  one  knew  which  of  the  P's  it 
was  that  passed  over  and  which  remained,  and  as  people 
said  that  anyway  the  one  that  stayed  was  properly  the 
heir  of  those  who  went,  it  was  finally  decided  that  this 
one  should  have  all  the  names — hence  Philip  Phineas 
Philander  Johnson,  or  more  commonly  Phil,  or  the 
three  P's. 

Now  if  any  of  my  readers  are  inclined  to  metaphysics 
and  the  study  of  the  occult,  I  suggest  to  them  that  here 
is  a  field  for  thought. 

What,  probably  or  possibly,  is  the  effect  upon  the 
two  P's  who  passed  over  before  being  distinguished 
in  the  minds  of  their  parents  from  the  one  who  re 
mained,  and  what  will  be  the  effect  upon  him  of 
thus  receiving  the  appellation  by  which  his  brothers  are 
entitled  to  be  known  ?  Will  the  confusion  of  things 
and  names  and  persons  here  affect  the  karma — I  believe 
that  the  term — which  our  young  friend  to  whom  I  have 
just  introduced  you  will  be  able  or  compelled  to  create 


32  THE  WORLD'S  HEROES. 

for  himself  ?  And  will  the  aura  of  those  who  passed 
over  be  in  any  way  affected  by  the  acts  of 
him  who  remains,  and  who  not  only  bears  the  names 
to  which  they  are  entitled,  but  is  indistinguishably  and 
permanently  mixed  up  with  them  in  the  minds  of  the 
parents  and  the  community  in  which  the  latter  is  still 
living  ? 

You  will  note  that  Phil  is  not  greatly  different 
from  other  boys  of  his  age  and  surroundings. 
I  may  as  well  tell  you  here,  so  that  you  may  not  suf 
fer  any  disappointment  later  on,  that  now  that  he 
is  a  man  he  is  not  greatly  different  from  other  men. 
This  is  just  a  plain  narrative  of  the  lives  of  plain 
everyday  people  possessed  of  plain  everday  virtues 
and  weaknesses ;  and  that  there  has  been  anything 
worth  recording  in  their  lives  is  due  rather  to  the 
circumstances  by  which  at  times  they  have  been  sur- 
rountfed  than  to  any  extraordinarily  heroic  qualities 
possessed  by  them.  There  are  thousands  equally 
heroic  by  nature  of  whom  the  world  never  heard,  for 
the  reason  that  heroism  is  so  common  a  virtue  among 
the  people. 

That  which  is  not  of  the  common  only  is  made 
matter  of  history. 

The  everyday  life  of  the  common  people  of  this 
and  most  other  countries  is  filled  with  acts  of  heroism ; 


THE  WORLD'S  HEROES.  33 

heroic  forbearance  under  multiplied  wrongs ;  heroic 
self-denial,  growing  out  of  love  for  country  and 
family  and  friends.  I  do  not  write  this  narrative  be 
cause  there  was  or  is  anything  worthy  of  chronicling 
in  the  people  of "  whom  I  write,  but  rather  because 
of  the  events  by  which  they  were  surrounded  and 
in  which  they  played  their  part  by  reason  of  being 
there. 

Phil  Johnson,  now,  is,  as  you  see,  a  common  enough 
looking  boy,  in  blue  jean  overalls  and  hickory  shirt. 
His  straw  hat  has  lost  half  its  brim,  but  so  have  the 
hats  of  half  the  boys  of  his  age  throughout  the  town, 
and  the  other  half  will  be  gone  in  another  week. 
What  would  you  expect  of  hats  that  serve  the  purpose 
of  footballs  nearly  as  'much  as  of  head  gear  among 
a  crowd  of  growing  young  savages,  such  as  most 
boys  are  ? 

If  you  do  not  believe  Phil  is  growing,  look  at  his 
pants — half-way  up  to  his  knees,  now,  exposing  the  calf 
of  a  well-turned  leg,  and  preparing  to  show  still  more  of 
it  before  the  first  frost. 

Yes,  his  face  is  freckled  and  tanned  with  the  sun, 
and  his  hair  has  been  given  a  lick  and  a  promise  to 
day — probably  for  several  days ;  possibly  the  promise 
without  the  lick ;  but  if  the  lick,  then  it  was  given 
with  a  coarse  comb  that  was  lacking  half  its  teeth, 


34  A   GENTLE   REMINDER. 

and  the  promise  was  of  a  more  thorough  combing 
some  other  time,  and  will  probably  be  kept  next 
Sunday,  when  his  mother  compels  him  to  put  on  a 
clean  shirt  and  overalls  and  slick  himself  up  generally, 
preparatory  to  going  to  "meetin';"  for  I  would  not 
have  you  think  the  town  wholly  without  gospel 
privileges.  On  the  contrary,  services  are  held  with 
considerable  regularity  every  third  Sunday — in  the 
open  air  if  the  weather  permits,  and  if  not, 
in  the  house — the  only  one,  by  the  way,  builded 
wholly  of  boards  of  which  the  town  can  boast — 
in  which,  during  the  winter  months,  the  district  school 
is  kept. 

One  thing  I  wish  to  remind  my  reader  of,  lest  he  or 
she  may  have  forgotten. 

We  forget  so  many  things  as  we  get  along  up  in 
years. 

I  would  not  be  a  bit  surprised,  now,  if  you,  dear 
reader,  would  deny  that  you  were  ever  in  love  with  a 
freckled,  sun-browned  girl  with  bare  feet  and  a  calico 
frock,  but  everybody  knows  you  have  been. 

Why,  I'll  wager  a  box  of  the  best  Havanas  that  I  can 
go  with  you  back  to  the  old  neighborhood  where  you 
were  raised  and  get  proof  enough  to  convict  you  in  a 
justice's  court  of  having  been  in  love  with  a  dozen  such 
in  your  boyhood  days. 


A  GENTLE   REMINDER.  35 

And  you,  dear  madame,  to  my  positive  knowledge 
you  were  in  love  a  half  dozen  times  at  least, 
or  thought  you  were,  before  you  got  out  of  short 
dresses. 

Some  of  your  sweethearts  were  fair  skinned,  tow- 
headed  little  men  in  nankeen  waists  that  buttoned  onto 
their  panto,  and  some  of  them  wore  roundabouts  and 
some  wore  coats  and  tucked  their  pants  into  their  boot 
legs  so  as  to  show  their  red  tops  ;  lords  and  knights, 
worthy  to  rank  with  the  greatest  and  noblest  of 
earth.  Oh,  you  can  not  deceive  me.  I  have  the  wis 
dom  which  comes  of  years  and  experience,  and  I  know 
all  about  it. 

Now,  if  you  want  to  recall  old  memories  and  see 
yourself  as  you  were  before  the  cares  and  burdens  of  life 
existed  for  you,  just  you  watch  what's  left  of  the  P's  for 
a  little  while. 

There,  didn't  I  tell  you  ? 

He  has  left  the  crowd  of  youngsters  with  whom 
he  was  playing  and  is  off  in  the  direction  of  the 
ferry. 

He  has  heard  a  halloo  which  he  knows  comes  from 
some  one  on  the  other  side  of  the  river  wanting  to  be 
ferried  across,  and  is  off  like  a  shot  to  help  Nettie  with 
the  boat.  No,  no,  don't  stop  him.  Let  him  go  ;  there 
is  nothing  in  nature  more  innocent  than  the  loves  of 


36  DON'T. 

children,  of  boys  for  girls  and  girls  for  boys.  For 
pity's  sake  do  not  do  anything  to  make  them  ashamed 
of  their  love.  A  knowledge  of  what  sin  is  and  its 
possibilities  comes  soon  enough  ;  let  them  be  innoceni 
while  they  may. 


•o 


"WHERE  IS   YOTTB   BROTHER?" 


CHAPTER  II. 

STARTING    OUT   TO   MAKE   A    MILLION. 

As  Phil  came  over  the  bank  Nettie  was  just  in  the 
act  of  pushing  the  boat  off  shore,  having  already  loosened 
the  chain  with  which  it  was  fastened,  and  thrown  it  upon 
the  boat.  She  had  purposely  delayed  a  little  in  doing 
this,  making  pretenses  that  the  chain  would  not  un 
fasten,  but  the  moment  she  heard  the  sound  of  running 
feet  on  the  bank  above,  the  difficulty  vanished  and  she 
began  to  push  off. 

Phil  gave  a  shove  at  the  prow  and  sprang  on  board, 
going  at  once  to  the  tiller  for  the  purpose  of  so  turning 
the  rude  craft  as  to  get  the  best  use  of  the  current  in 
forcing  it  across.  Evidently  he  was  well  acquainted 
with  the  handling  of  it.  The  truth  is,  he  seldom  spent 
much  time  any  where  else  than  on  or  about  the  ferry 
unless  on  compulsion  from  his  parents.  Ever  since 
Nettie  began  to  manage  the  boat  Phil  had  been  her 
assistant  as  often  as  hs  could  escape  from  the  tasks 
assigned  him  at  home. 

(37) 


38  PHIL  AND  NETTIE. 

"'Spect  he's  down  to  the  ferry,"  was  always  the 
reply  of  any  member  of  the  Johnson  family  when  any 
other  member  inquired  where  Phil  was. 

As  for  the  children  of  his  own  age  belonging  to 
other  families,  they  never  inquired  of  his  own  people 
of  his  whereabouts  ;  if  he  was  not  in  sight  on  the 
premises,  neither  cutting  wood  in  front  of  the  door, 
weeding  the  truck  patch  or  picking  up  chips,  they  knew 
at  once  that  he  had  been  sent  off  on  an  errand,  in 
which  case  it  was  no  use  to  ask  for  him,  or  he  was  at 
the  ferry  ;  and  it  was  there  that  they  went  to  make  their 
inquiries. 

' 'Phil's  got  to  chop  wood  this  afternoon  ;"  ''Phil's 
got  to  hoe  the  onions;"  ''Phil's  father  made  him  go 
hunt  the  hogs  down  in  the  bottom  ;  they're  goin'  to  get 
'em  home  and  finish  fattin'  'em."  All  these  among 
other  reasons  Nettie  herself  had  been  heard  to  give 
in  answer  to  questions  as  to  where  Phil  was  ;  which 
simply  goes  to  show  the  existence  of  a  pretty  good 
understanding  between  them,  and  that  Phil  was  in  the 
habit  of  reporting  to  her  any  pressing  engagements 
made  for  him  by  his  parents  in  advance  of  his  meeting 
them. 

In  fact  the  intimacy  between  Phil  and  Nettie  had 
been  of  so  long  standing  that  no  one  had  observed 
ixs  beginning,  or  appeared  to  notice  its  existence  any 
more  than  if  they  had  been  brother  and  sister.  To  the 


PHIL  AND  NETTIE.  39 

children  themselves  it  appeared — as  it  certainly  was — 
the  most  natural  thing  in  the  world.  Nettie's  first 
memory  of  the  ferry,  which  was  her  first  memory  of  any 
thing,  was  of  playing  with  other  children  about  it,  and 
Phil's  memory  went  no  further  back. 

When  Nettie  first  began  to  manage  the  ferry  boat 
Phil  was  by  to  encourage  her  in  her  ambition,  and  when 
the  boat  made  its  first  trip  with  her  in  charge  Phil  went 
along  to  assist. 

That  was  years  ago  now,  and  Phil  had  always  been 
her  chief  assistant  since.  Not  that  he  was  the  only  one 
she  had,  for  every  child  in  the  village  was  more  or  less 
at  the  ferry,  and  not  one  of  them  had  reached  the 
mature  age  of  twelve  years  without  having,  one  time  or 
another,  stood  at  the  tiller  and  tried  to  guide  the  boat. 
But  none  of  them  seemed  so  greatly  to  enjoy  the  fun  or 
labor — which  ever  you  desire  to  consider  it,  or  to  so 
persistently  hang  around  the  boat  as  Phil.  And  so  it 
was  that  gradually  he  came  to  be  looked  upon  as  in 
some  way  one  of  the  managers  of  the  ferry,  having 
rights  if  not  duties  there. 

All  this,  I  say,  had  seemed  natural'  enough  to 
everybody,  and  to  none  more  so  than  to  Phil  and 
Nettie. 

That  there  could  be  any  reason  why  they  should 
blush  to  acknowledge  the  intimacy  which  existed  be 
tween  them  had  never  occurred  to  either,  or  at 


4O  NETTIE   GROWS  SHY. 

least  not  until  a  few  days  previous  to  the  time  of 
which  I  write,  nor  did  either  understand  why  it  was 
so  now. 

Only  recently  a  strange  feeling  had  sprung  up  in 
their  hearts  ;  one  which  made  them  shy  of  each  other 
in  the  presence  of  older  persons.  Just  why  it  was  so, 
neither  could  well  have  told  ;  and  indeed  they  would 
probably  have  denied  its  existence.  It  began  when  a 
short  time  before  a  couple  of  gentlemen,  one,  of  whom 
lived  in  a  railroad  town  ten  miles  away,  b»it  who  oc 
casionally  had  business  which  required  him  to  travel  the 
road  to  the  ferry  and  so  was  known  to  Nettie  by  sight, 
and  another,  a  young  man  she  had  never  seen,  had 
crossed  together. 

Phil  was  away  at  the  time,  and  having  as  it  chanced 
always  seen  them  together  when  he  had  crossed  hereto 
fore,  the  gentleman  noticed  his  absence  and  inquired 
of  the  girl  if  her  brother  was  sick  that  she  was  tending 
the  ferry  alone. 

"Who,  Phil?"  she  asked  in  reply;  adding:  "He 
ain't  my  brother.  He's  Mr.  Johnson's  boy,  and  he 
couldn't  help  run  the  boat  to-day  'cause  he  has  to  hoe 
in  the  truck  patch." 

"But  isn't  he  hired  to  help  you  tend  the  ferry  ?" 
asked  the  gentleman.  '  'I  supposed  you  were  both  Mr. 
McKinley's  children." 

"Oh,    no,"   answered  Nettie,    "Phil  isn't  hired;  he 


AND   LEARNS   TO   BLUSH.  41 

just  helps  me  because  he  likes  to  run  the  boat,  and  be 
cause — because — " 

She  blushed  and  stopped.  She  was  going  to  say 
"because  we  like  each  other,"  but  something,  perhaps  it 
was  the  amused  smile  playing  around  the  mouth  of  her 
questioner,  caused  an  embarrassed  feeling  before  un 
known  to  her. 

The  gentleman  finished  the  sentence  for  her  by 
adding  : 

"Because  he  is  your  sweetheart,  eh!"  And  for  the 
first  time  in  her  life  she  blushed.  Just  why  she  blushed 
she  could  not  have  told.  Indeed,  I  suppose  she  did 
not  know  she  was  blushing,  but  she  knew  that  her  face 
felt  suddenly  uncomfortably  warm,  and  she  turned 
away  and  pretended  to  be  busy  with  the  tiller,  and 
never  once  again  looked  at  either  gentleman,  neither 
replied  to  their  smilingly  pronounced  "good  byes"  as 
they  left  the  boat.  And  when,  after  completing  his  stint 
for  the  afternoon,  Phil  joined  her  at  the  ferry  as  usual, 
she  greeted  him  less  boisterously  than  was  her  custom, 
and  when  any  one  was  by  appeared  shy  of  him,  and  as 
if  she  wished  to  avoid  being  seen  sitting  or  standing  by 
his  side.  Phil  felt  this  shyness  rather  than  saw  it  with 
his  natural  eyes,  and  instinctively  tried  to  keep  closer 
to  her  than  ever,  which  only  seemed  to  make  her  the 
more  anxious  to  keep  away  from  him.  When  he  went 
home  and  to  bed  that  night  he  had  for  the  first  time  in 


4§  PHIL  HAS   A   NEW   SENSATION. 

his  life  a  feeling  that  there  was  something  wrong  with 
the  universe  some  way,  as  if  the  world  was  out  of  kelter 
and  needed  fixing,  though  just  how  or  why  he  could 
not  say. 

But  the  next  day  when  he  went  again  to  the  ferry 
the  feeling  had  all  passed  away  and  the  world  had  re 
sumed  its  natural  brightness.  Nettie,  too,  appeared 
to  have  forgotten,  if  she  had  ever  had  anything  to 
remember,  for  she  hailed  him  with  accustomed  famil 
iarity,  and  they  spent  a  pleasant  half  day  together, 
though  once  or  twice  when  grown  people  were  around 
there  was  something  about  Nettie  quite  indefinable  to 
Phil,  yet  which  caused  a  slight  return  of  the  feeling  of 
the  night  before. 

But  the  feeling,  whatever  it  was,  passed  in  a  mo 
ment.  When  he  went  to  his  dinner  and  his  afternoon 
stint  of  weeding  in  the  truck  patch  he  was  light 
hearted  as  a  boy  could  be  and  did  an  unusually  good 
job  of  weeding  ;  and  the  next  day  when  he  had  chop 
ped  and  split  enough  wood  for  his  mother  to  bake  with 
and  was  again  at  liberty,  and  hearing  the  halloo  of  some 
one  wanting  to  cross  the  river,  he  darted  away  as  we 
have  seen,  with  heart  as  light  as  his  heels. 

As  we  have  seen,  too,  Nettie  was  waiting  and  hoping 
for  his  coming  ;  even  pretending  to  those  who  wished 
to  be  brought  across  that  she  was  having  trouble  in 


PHIL   HAS   A   NEW   SENSATION.  43 

unfastening  the  boat,  in  order  to  give  Phil  tima  to  get 
there  before  she  cast  off. 

Had  she  been  straining  her  eyes  in  an  effort  to 
recognize  the  parties  waiting  to  come  over  as  intently 
as  she  was  straining  her  ears  to  catch  the  sound  of 
Phil's  approaching  steps,  she  would  have  seen  that  the 
travelers  were  the  same  gentlemen  who  had  crossed 
over  two  days  before,  to  one  of  whom  she  owed 
the  knowledge  of  her  ability  to  blush  ;  in  which  case 
she  would  probably  have  hurried  to  push  off  before 
Phil's  arrival,  instead  of  making  an  excuse  to  await  his 
coming. 

When  Phil  had  taken  the  tiller  after  jumping 
aboard,  Nettie  went  and  stood  by  him,  and,  all  un 
conscious  of  the  strangers  watching  them,  laughed  and 
chatted  merrily,  their  eyes  meanwhile  observing  the 
motion  of  the  boat,  and  Phil  moving  the  tiller  this  way 
and  that  almost  mechanically,  as  long  practice  in  a  thing 
enables  any  one  to  do. 

As  they  neared  the  opposite  shore  Nettie  picked 
up  the  chain,  and  the  moment  the  boat  touched 
sprang  ashore,  ready  to  throw  it  over  the  post  placed 
there  for  that  purpose,  when,  glancing  up,  she  rec 
ognized  the  travelers,  and  was  instantly  covered 
with  confusion.  All  the  old  feeling  of  embarrass 
ment  came  back  to  her,  and  she  stood  for  a  brief 
space  of  time  with  her  hands  extended  as  if  in  the 


44  A   LITTLE   TIFF. 

act  of  letting  the  ring  drop  over  the  stake,  but  for 
getting  to  let  go  of  it,  while  the  blood  suffused  her  face 
and  neck. 

"So  the  captain's  mate  has  returned,  has  he  ?"  in 
terrogated  the  elder  gentleman,  glancing  from  Nettie  to 
Phil  and  back  again  ;  ami  then  added,  laughingly,  <  'The 
brave  knight  performs  the  service  required  of  him  by  the 
powers  which  be,  and  instantly  flies  to  the  presence 
of  his  sweetheart  ;"  at  which  his  companion  laughed 
also. 

Neither  Phil  nor  Nettie  knew  just  what  he  meant 
by  his  remark,  but  they  did  know  that  in  some  mild 
way  they  were  being  made  sport  of  for  being  so  much 
together,  and  instantly  they  became  silent.  Only  once 
during  the  few  moments  they  were  swinging  back  to 
their  starting  point  did  either  speak,  and  then  Phil 
asked  some  simple  question  in  a  low  tone,  which  Nettie 
answered  in  a  still  lower  one,  and  without  looking  at 
him  ;  and  when  the  gentlemen  had  left  the  boat  and 
ridden  up  the  bank  and  out  of  sight,  she  also  went  up 
the  bank  and  into  her  father's  cabin,  and  did  not  return 
for  more  than  an  hour,  and  not  until  Phil  had  gone 
home. 

The  next  morning,  when  Mr.  Johnson,  standing  at 
the  foot  of  the  ladder  which  led  up  into  the  loft  of  his 
story-and-a-half  log  cabin,  and  looking  up  at  the  open 
landing  above  his  head,  cabled  first,  "Phil,"  and  then 


MR.    JOHNSON   MAKES   A   DISCOVERY.  45 

"Oh,  Phil,"  two  or  three  times,  and  getting  no  answer 
had  climbed  to  his  sleeping  place  with  the  intention  of 
waking  him  by  some  niore  vigorous  measures,  he 
found  the  loft  empty.  Phil  was  not  there, 

"Blamed  if  the  youngster  ain't  up  and  out  a'ready," 
he  said  aloud,  as  he  descended  to  the  lower  floor  again  ; 
'  'wonder  what's  on  hand  to  make  him  turn  out  without 
being  called  ?" 

' 'Phil's  up  a'ready,"  he  said  to  the  boy's  mother,  as 
he  passed  from  the  log  part  into  the  frame  kitchen  in 
which  she  was  preparing  breakfast.  '  'Where  d'ye  s'pose 
he  is  ;  ain't  gone  down  to  the  ferry  before  breakfast,  I 
reckon  ?" 

Whether  Mrs.  Johnson  felt  a  sudden  premonition  of 
evil,  or  whether  she  thought  her  husband  had  been  mis 
taken  in  supposing  that  Phil  had  arisen,  I  can  not  tell, 
but  she  laid  down  the  knife  with  which  she  was  turning 
her  corn  cakes  and  went  into  the  other  room  and  up  the 
ladder,  as  her  husband  had  done.  She  was  gone  some 
minutes,  and  returned  with  a  scared  look  upon  her  face. 
She  held  in  her  hand  a  piece  of  paper,  evidently  the 
blank  leaf  torn  from  some  school  book,  on  which  was 
scrawled  in  a  big  hand : 

"Tell  Nettie  I've  gone  away ;  when  I've  made  a 
million  of  dollars  I'll  cum  back  and  marry  her.' 

"PHIL." 

Two   weeks   later,   a  letter   addressed   in   the  same 


40  TELL   NETTIE. 

schoolboy  hand  arrived,  and  was  given  to  Mrs.  Johnson. 
It  ran  as  follows  : 
"DEAR  MOTHER: 

I'm  going  to  go  to  Kansas  to  herd  cattle  for  a 
man.  We  are  goin'  through  with  teams.  When  I  get 
a  good  farm  and  lots  of  cattle  of  my  own  I'll  come  back 
after  you  all. 

Your  affectionate  son, 

PHIL. 
Post  skrip.     Tell  Nettie." 


IN  FRONT  OP  THE  STAMPED*. 


CHAPTER  III. 


IN    FRONT   OF    THE    STAMPEDE — RIDING    THE    TRAIL. 

Ride  !  ride  like  the  devil;  ride  for  your  life,  man  ! 
Stick  spur  in  your  pony's  flank,  and  press  hard  and 
press  long;  lean  low  over  your  saddle  bow — speak 
quick,  sharp  words  of  encouragement  and  command 
to  your  beast,  and  ride  for  your  life  !  for  behind  you, 
like  the  waves  of  a  mad  sea,  are  ten  thousand  frightened 
steers,  and  you  are  scarce  the  length  of  your  horse 
ahead  of  them  1  If  your  pony  stumble — if  in  the  dark- 
yiess  of  night  made  black  by  overhanging  clouds  his 
foot  shall  strike  a  prairie  dog  hole,  or  if  he  fail  to  clear 
at  a  bound  the  ruins  of  some  deserted  corral,  the 
location  of  which  neither  horse  nor  rider  knows  anything 
of— if  anything  happen  by  which  his  speed  is  checked 
btjt  for  one  short  moment — the  hoofs  that  are  thunder 
ing  at  your  heels  shall  tramp  every  semblance  of  hu 
manity  out  of  your  body  before  you  can  utter  a  prayer 
or  curse  ! 

It  was  in  the  spring  of  188-  that  Maxwell's  big  herd 
.  (47) 


4&  THE   MAXWELL  DRIVE. 

started  up  the  trail  from  the  Rio  Grande  country  on  the*/ 
long  journey  through  Texas  and  the  Indian  Territory 
to  Kansas.  For  months  the  Maxwells,  aided  by  their 
men,  had  been  rounding  up  and  branding  and  preparing 
for  the  trip,  and  finally  all  was  ready,  and  the  herd  was 
started  North.  Herds  starting  from  as  low  down  as 
Laredo,  or  anywhere  in  Southern  Texas,  must  start 
early  in  the  season,  as  it  is  an  all  summer  drive  if  cattle 
are  to  be  brought  through  in  good  condition. 

Maxwell  had  in  this  drive  a  good  round  five  thou 
sand  longhorns,  or  Texas  steers,  mostly  three-year-olds. 
The  plan  was  to  take  them  North  by  easy  stages  to  well 
up  in  the  Indian  Territory,  winter  there,  and  push 
them  into  market  as  early  as  they  could  be  got  into  fit 
condition. 

The  outfit  consisted  of  ten  men,  besides  a  cook. 

Each  of  the  ten  men  was  supplied  with  several 
Spanish  ponies  for  riding ;  for  on  such  drives  frequent 
changes  of  horses  are  absolutely  necessary.  The  cook 
was  furnished  with  a  pair  of  stout  mules,  a  wagon  for 
"chuck"  or  provisions,  consisting  principally  of  beans 
and  black  coffee,  though  a  steer  is  always  killed  when 
needed  on  such  expeditions,  particularly  when  passing 
through  strips  of  country  where  there  are  cattle  at 
range. 

Cattle  men,  as  a  rule — to  which  there  are  exceptions 
— much  prefer  having  men  in  their  employ,  when  they 


A  STORM    SBTS   IN.  49 

want  fresh  meat,  kill  a  steer  or  heifer  bearing  tome 
brand  other  than  their  own,  and  applaud  it  as  a  good 
joke — a  sort  of  sharp  trick.  Human  nature  is  not  much 
different  on  the  plains  than  elsewhere ;  neither  are 
cattle  men  or  cowboys  worse  than  others ;  but  those 
who  engage  in  the  business  as  employers  or  employed 
do  so  either  from  a  desire  to  acquire  wealth  rapidly  or 
a  love  of  freedom  from  the  restraints  of  law,  and  it  is 
natural  among  such  that  a  disregard  for  legal  rights, 
even  a  pleasure  in  disregarding  them,  should  manifest 
itself  ;  but  let  the  sympathies  of  this  class  be  appealed 
to — let  a  companion,  or  even  a  stranger,  be  in  need, 
and  none  so  ready  to  extend  a  helping  hand  ;  and  the 
most  ready  of  all  is  often  he  who  is  most  prompt  on 
occasion  to  wrong  another  in  the  killing  of  a  steer  or 
branding  a  maverick. 

The  drive  had  been  on  the  road  but  two  or  three 
days,  and  was  hardly  broken  in — long-horned  steers 
that  have  never  been  handled  except  as  they  were 
caught  with  a  lasso,  thrown  to  the  ground  and  branded 
with  a  hot  iron,  never  get  very  well  broken  in,  even  to 
driving  in  a  bunch — when,  just  as  night  approached,  a 
-rain  storm  came  up  accompanied  with  wind,  and  at  once 
the  herd  began  to  drift ,  that  is,  to  work  slowly  ahead 
with  the  storm. 

The  only  thing  to  do  when  a  herd  begins  drifting, 
and  especially  if  it  be  a  large  one,  is  for  the  herders  to 


5O  AND   THE    HERD   BEGINS   TO   DRIFT. 

keep  with  it,  riding  in  front  and  at  the  sides  ;  keeping  it 
from  breaking  up  into  bunches,  and  so  becoming  separ 
ated.  Cattle  do  not  travel  very  rapidly  in  such  cases, 
but  they  keep  moving  steadily,  with  heads  down,  noses 
close  to  the  ground,  and  any  effort  to  stop  them  is  likely 
to  result  in  the  thing  most  to  be  dreaded — a  stampede, 
and  a  division  of  the  drove  into  bunches,  whereby  it  is 
likely  to  become  mixed  with  other  herds. 

When  the  storm  came  up,  the  men,  a  few  at  a  time, 
went  back  to  the  cook's  wagon  and  secured  such  proven 
der  as  they  could  for  themselves,  caught  and  mounted 
fresh  ponies  and  resumed  their  places  in  the  line  which 
they  had  formed  about  the  drifting  herd,  endeavoring 
by  the  singing  of  songs  and  by  keeping  even  pace  with 
the  cattle  as  they  drifted  to  keep  them  from  becoming 
uneasy,  and  so  hold  them  together. 

And  now,  reader,  if  you  have  ever  hankered  after  the 
free  and  easy  life  of  a  cowboy,  this  is  a  good  time  to 
think  the  matter  over  and  arrive  at  a  decision. 

Fancy  yourself  one  of  Maxwell's  hands  on  this  drive 
and  the  night  in  question.  You  have  been  in  the  saddle 
all  day  and  have  changed  horses  twice  ;  the  night  is 
black,  but  you  have  been  out  on  dark  nights,  and  on 
rainy  nights  and  on  horseback  before.  Very  well.  Now 
recall,  if  you  can,  the  darkest  night  in  which  you  were 
ever  out.  Imagine  the  rain  falling  steadily  and  every 
now  and  then  rustled  and  rattled  about  by  a  gust  of 


ALONE   IN   THE    DARKNESS.  5 1 

wind,  yourself  astride  of  a  Spanish  pony,  who  would 
feel  insulted  if  he  thought  you  considered  him  thoroughly 
broke,  even  to  the  saddle,  and  by  you.  We  are  on  a 
prairie  miles,  yes  hundreds  of  miles,  in  extent  over 
which  neither  of  us  has  ever  ridden,  and  we  are  two 
of  but  a  handful  of  men  in  charge  of  some  thousands  of 
half  wild  steers  drifting  with  the  storm. 

We  separate  here  ;  you  turn  your  pony's  head  with 
the  storm  and  ride  slowly  in  advance  of  the  drifting 
herd.  I  continue  on  out  of  your  sight  and  hearing,  and 
then  do  as  you  have  done,  turn  my  pony's  head  with  the 
wind,  and  drift. 

You  are  alone  now  ;  you  see  nothing,  unless  per 
chance  a  flash  of  lightning  discloses  for  an  instant  a  sea 
of  horns,  of  long  slim  horns  above  a  mass  of  black 
moving  beasts  liable  at  any  moment  to  become  frantic 
with  fear  and  rush  at  you  and  over  you,  trampling  you 
down  and  mangling  you  beyond  possibility  of  recognition. 

Hour  after  hour  the  storm  beats  down  and  the  cattle 
drift.  You  were  soaked  through  and  through  hours  ago. 
For  hours  you  have  not  so  much  as  seen  the  pony's 
head  upon  which  you  ride  ;  you  do  not  know  which  way 
or  where  you  are  going,  or  how  going,  only  that  you  are 
drifting  with  the  storm  and  the  herd.  You  hear  the 
tramp  of  feet,  the  rattle  of  horns  knocking  against  each 
other,  and  occasionally  the  voice  of  another  herder 
singing,  or  rather  yelling,  for  the  double  purpose  of 


$*  THE   STEERS   STAMPEDE. 

keeping  the  steers  as  quiet  as  may  be  and  of  letting  hit 
companions  know  about  where  he  is. 

You  attempt  to  lift  up  an  answering  voice,  but  the 
wind  comes  with  a  gust,  snatches  your  sombrero  from 
your  head  and  whirls  it  away  in  the  darkness.  If  there 
was  only  the  least  bit  of  light  it  would  look  like  a  great 
dusky  bat  sailing  through  the  air,  but  it  is  too  dark  to 
see  anything  ;  and  besides,  the  same  gust  of  wind  that 
robbed  you  of  your  sombrero  drove  the  words  you  were 
trying  to  speak  back  into  your  mouth  and  down  your 
throat,  choking  you  and  forcing  you  to  turn  aside  your 
head  to  catch  breath  again  as  you  ride  to-night  with 
Maxwell's  drive  of  Texas  steers. 

And  just  as  you  turn  your  head,  and  before  you  can 
catch  your  breath,  the  steers  stampede.  Your  hat 
carried  by  the  wind  and  skimming  over  their  backs  has 
done  it.  You  feel  the  first  mighty  impulse,  the  first 
frightened  thrill  of  that  compacted  mass  ;  the  ground 
trembles,  and  for  an  instant,  with  the  wind  in  your 
throat,  you  are  confused  and  imagine  yourself  in  a  storm 
at  sea.  Only  the  agility  of  your  pony  saves  you  from 
instant  death,  for  you  are  in  the  lead  and  the  herd  that 
is  coming  down  upon  you  is  as  blind  with  fear  as  are  you 
with  the  darkness. 

Only  ten  minutes  since  the  stampede  began  and  it 
seems  an  hour  ;  you  are  a  mile,  miles  from  where  you 
started  and  still  alive  but  not  put  of  danger.  A  Texas 


IN   FRONT   OF   THE   STAMPEDE.  53 

ateer  is  almost  as  fleet  of  foot  and  long  of  wind  as  a  cow 
pony,  and  you  had  but  a  few  yards  the  start,  having 
kept  close  up  to  them  that  your  presence  might  quiet 
them.  You  are  gaining  on  them,  however,  and  they 
may  slacken  their,  pace  any  moment  now. 

But  no,  they  have  taken  fresh  fright  and  are  rushing 
on  faster  than  ever.  And — what's  that  ?  Great  God  ! 
they  are  closing  in  on  the  sides.  In  the  darkness  the 
edges  of  the  drive  have  moved  faster  than  the  center  and 
you  are  flanked  upon  both  sides,  and  in  their  fright  now 
they  are  closing  in  instead  of  scattering. 

Something  touches  your  stirrup  as  you  ride  ;  you 
feel  the  presence  of  something  beside  you,  keeping  even 
pace  with  you ;  you  think  it  a  steer  and  that  the  herd 
has  quite  closed  in  on  you  ;  but  no,  it  is  another  rider 
and  another  pony.  In  the  race  we  who  separated  in 
front  of  the  drive  hours  ago  are  driven  together  by  the 
pressure  of  the  herd  upon  our  right  and  our  left.  We 
are  still  behind  the  leaders  upon  both  flanks.  We  do 
not  see  this,  we  feel  that  it  is  so  ;  there  is  something 
in  the  air,  in  the  trembling  of  the  ground,  in  the  efforts 
of  the  animals  we  ride  to  put  forth  increased  speed  that 
tells  it  to  us. 

But  how  dark  it  is.  We  lean  forward  upon  our 
saddle  bows;  we  strain  our  eyes;  we  drive  our  rowels 
afresh  into  the  flanks  of  our  steeds,  we  fly  through  the 
darkness. 


54  IN   FRONT  OF  THE   STAMPEDE. 

There  comes  a  flash  of  lightning,  not  vivid,  but 
enough  to  show  us  the  ground  in  front  and  the  herd 
closing  in  upon  us.  There  is  but  a  little  space  on  either 
side  not  rilled  by  the  black  mass  of  moving  bodies  and 
horns. 

The  light  has  vanished  now  and  we  can  feel  the 
darkness  around  and  about  us  ;  and  now  we  feel  the 
touch  of  warm  bodies  against  our  legs  ;  the  herd  has 
closed  in  upon  us  ;  we  are  a  part  of  the  mass  of  surging 
brutes,  surrounded,  doomed. 

Only  for  an  instant.  Another  flash  of  lightning  and 
an  opening  appears  ;  we  lack  but  a  length  of  being  in 
the  lead,  our  ponies  see  it,  understand  it,  put  forth  new 
strength  and  clear  the  press.  We  are  saved.  No,  one 
falls,  his  pony's  foot  caught  in  a  prairie  dog  hole,  and 
the  mass  surges  over  him.  To-morrow  search  will  be 
made  and  a  mass  of  blood  and  mangled  flesh  will  be 
found  and  given  such  burial  as  is  possible,  but  for  that 
he  who  rides  has  no  time  to  think.  He  is  out  of  the 
mass  and  again  in  the  lead  and  a  good  ten  miles  from 
the  point  where  the  stampede  began,  and  the  surging 
mass  of  bodies  and  horns  behind  is  beginning  to  recover 
from  its  fright,  to  check  its  speed.  He  is  saved. 

But  how  do  you  like  to  ride  the  drive  ?  Has  the 
wild  free  life  of  the  cowboy  the  same  charm  for 
you  it  had  before  you  rode  this  night  with  Maxwell's 
herd  ? 


RIDING  THE    DRIVE.  55 

When  the  morning  came  after  the  stampede  and  the 
ride  from  which  one  never  returned,  the  drive  was  found 
to  have  been  kept  well  together,  considering  the  distance 
and  the  character  of  the  night.  It  had  divided  into  two 
parts,  but  luckily  both  had  taken  the  same  general 
direction  and  had  come  to  a  halt  when  the  storm  ceased 
near  daybreak,  not  more  than  two  or  three  miles  apart, 
so  that  the  difficulty  of  gathering  them  together  was  not 
great.  But  it  was  noon  before  all  the  herders  had 
opportunity  to  get  anything  to  eat  or  to  change  their 
tired  ponies  for  fresh  ones. 

Among  the  last  to  show  up  at  camp  was  one  of  the 
men  who  was  in  front  of  the  drive  when  the  stampede 
began.  What  remained  of  the  other  had  been  buried 
two  hours  before  and  a  rude  mark  placed  over  the  hastily 
dug  grave. 

"That  was  a  close  call  you  had  last  night,  Phil," 
remarked  one  of  the  men.  "I  thought  you  and  Bob 
had  both  gone  on  the  long  drive.  I  knew  you  and  he 
were  in  front,  and  was  afraid  the  brutes  had  pushed 
ahead  at  the  sides  so  as  to  flank  you.  I  was  half  way 
back  on  the  side  to  which  the  wind  was  blowing  and 
could  hear  you  while  you  couldn't  hear  me,  but  I  kept 
calling  to  the  boys  in  front  of  me  to  keep  singing  or 
calling  so  we  could  each  know  where  we  all  were  and 
keep  the  steers  as  much  together  as  possible.  When 
the  cattle  started  I  thought  of  you  and  Bob,  for  I  wasn't 


56  TOO   ROCKY   FOR   COMFORT. 

in  any  special  danger  myself,  not  more  than  common 
at  such  times  ;  and  when  that  flash  of  lightning  came 
I  saw  you  both,  just  for  a  second;  must  have  been  on 
~  bit  of  a  rise  just  then,  so  I  could  see  the  whole  mass 
of  brutes  and  you  and  Bob  bein'  closed  in  on,  but 
only  a  few  lengths  behind  the  foremost  of  the  drive.  I 
hoped  then  you'd  both  come  through,  but  I  reckon 
Bob's  pony  must  have  stumbled.  Well,  everybody's 
got  to  ride  that  trail  sometime,  but  I'd  rather  die  some 
other  way  than  be  trampled  to  death  by  a  lot  of  longhorn 
steers." 

"I,  too,"  returned  the  other.  "I  don't  believe  I'm 
a  coward,  but  there  are  things  about  this  business  that 
are  a  little  bit  too  rocky  for  comfort.  I've  more  than 
half  a  mind  to  say  that  this  will  be  my  last  drive. 
Soon's  we  round  up  in  Kansas  guess  I'll  settle  up  with 
the  company  and  take  what's  coming  to  me  and  start  in 
for  myself  somewhere." 

"Coin'  back  to  the  States?" 

"No  ;  at  least  not  yet.  I  must  make  a  stake  first ; 
a  little  one,  anyway.  I  was  only  a  boy  when  I  left 
home — ran  away,  you  know — and  I  promised  not  to 
go  back  until  I  was  worth  a  million.  Then  I  dropped 
down  a  peg  or  two,  and  fixed  the  line  at  a  big  ranch 
and  lots  ot  cattle  ;  and  I  must  at  least  have  a  little  ranch 
and  a  few  cattle,  or  I'd  be  ashamed  to  show  myself  in 
the  old  neighborhood." 


THE    THREE   P'S   AGAIN.  57 

"Well,  you  came  mighty  nigh  being  saved  that 
trouble.  I  calculate  you  were  only  one  jump  ahead  of 
death  last  night,  and  not  much  time  to  spare  to  make 
it  in.  But  what's  the  use  of  whinin'  ?  Better  eat  our 
chuck  while  we  can  get  it."  And  the  two  turned  to  the 
lay-out  provided  by  the  cook,  and  proceeded  to  satisfy 
their  appetites. 

And  this  is  Phil  Johnson,  the  man  who  so  narrowly 
escaped  death  last  night,  and  is  now  sitting  on  a  bit  ol 
limestone  rock,  drinking  black  coffee  from  a  tin  cup  and 
eating  grub  from  a  chuck  wagon  ;  the  boy  you  used  to 
know  when  he  lived  in  that  little  town  on  the  Wabash, 
and  'tended  ferry  with  Nettie  McKinley  when  not 
engaged  in  weeding  the  truck  patch,  bringing  in  wood 
for  his  mother,  or  hunting  hogs  or  cattle  in  the  river 
bottoms.  He  has  not  got  the  million  dollars  yet,  you 
see,  not  even  the  ranch  and  big  lot  of  cattle,  but  he  has 
been  to  Kansas,  as  he  said  in  his  letter  to  his  mother 
that  he  was  going  to  do,  and  from  Kansas  has  drifted 
to  the  Lone  Star  State,  where  we  now  find  him  drifting 
back  again,  a  rider  for  Maxwell,  one  of  the  largest  cattle 
men  of  the  West. 

Yes,  he  has  grown.  He  is  a  man  now.  Let  me  see — 
it  was  five,  six,  eight  years  ago  that  he  ran  away  from 
home  because  his  little  sweetheart  left  him  one  day 
without  saying  good-bye,  and  hid  away  in  her  father's 
cabin.  How  time  flies.  Eight  and  fourteen — that  makes 


$8  ABOUT  THAT  MILLION   DOLLARS. 

twenty-two.     Phil  is  a  year  past  his   majority  now,  and 
Nettie  herself  is  past  twenty. 

The  accidental  reference  of  Phil's  companion  to 
the  States  called  up  memories  which  haunted  Phil 
all  that  day  "and  the  next  and  the  next.  He  could 
not  forget  the  old  home  ;  oh  no,  ho  had  never  for 
gotten  it,  nor  the  ferry,  nor  Nettie  ,  neither  his  pur 
pose  of  going  back  some  day  and  surprising  them  all 
by  the  amount  of  wealth  he  would  display  ;  but  the 
desire  to  return  had  never  been  so  strong  upon  him 
as  now. 

Perhaps  it  was  because  of  his  narrow  escape  from 
death  in  the  stampede,  though,  as  for  that,  he  had  been 
near  death  often  before  in  those  eight  years. 

Ever  since  he  left  home — or,  at  least,  ever  since 
arriving  in  Kansas  with  the  emigrant  he  fell  in  with 
a  few  days  after  leaving — he  had  lived  upon  the 
frontier ;  most  of  the  time  as  a  herder  of  cattle. 
Twice  he  had  formed  one  of  a  little  company  that 
had  followed  a  party  of  cattle  thieves  across  the  Rio 
Grande  into  old  Mexico,  and  retaken  the  stolen 
beeves  after  a  smart  skirmish,  in  which  men  had 
bitten  the  dust  upon  both  sides ;  and  once,  when 
with  a  herd  in  New  Mexico,  he  had  had  a  brush  with 
the  Comanches,  and  came  near  getting  his  scalp 
lifted.  And  all  this  time  he  had  kept  in  mind  his 


ACROSS   THE   BORDER.  59 

promise  of  some  time  going  back  to  the  old  neighbor 
hood  and  Nettie. 

He  had  not,  however,  made  much  headway  toward 
the  million  or  even  the  ranch  and  cattle.  He  had 
lived  in  the  main  the  life  of  other  cowboys,  which 
means  getting  anywhere  from  fifteen  to  fifty  dollars 
a  month  and  spending  it  whenever  opportunity  offers. 
What  could  one  expect  of  such  a  boy  and  such  com 
panions  ? 

Yet  Phil  had  not  been  drunken  or  wild,  as  many 
are  ;  he  had  simply  spent  freely  when  he  had  anything 
to  spend  and  a  chance  to  spend  it.  Nothing  is  so  hard 
to  resist  as  the  temptation  to  spend  when  among  those 
who  are  in  the  habit  of  spending  freely  ;  and  nowhere 
in  the  world,  or  among  any  class  of  met',  is  one  more 
meanly  thought  of  for  niggardliness  than  among  cow 
boys. 

Phil's  outfit  was  always  of  the  best.  His  saddle  cost 
fifty  dollars.  His  spurs  were  of  silver  ;  his  pistols  finely 
mounted  ;  his  blankets  were  made  in  old  Mexico,  and 
were  thick  and  heavy  and  fine,  and  he  dressed  in  the 
best  of  cowboy  style.  He  generally  owned  a  pony  or 
two  besides,  but  ponies  are  cheap — from  fifteen  to  fifty 
dollars — a  month's  wages.  And  this  was  the  extent  of 
Phil's  savings  to  date  ;  this  the  start  he  had  made  upon 
his  million. 

But  now,  as  he   rode   day   after   day,    or   stood   his 


60  THE    COST   OF   AN   OUTFIT. 

lonely  guard  at  night,  his  thoughts  turned  more  seriously 
to  the  past  and  also  to  the  future.  For  the  first  time 
he  realized  fully  that  the  years  were  passing,  and  that 
if  ever  he  was  to  make  good  in  any  considerable  degree 
his  boyish  boast  of  securing  a  competence  and  returning 
to  the  village  of  his  birth,  it  was  time  he  set  about  it. 
He  had  not  really  intended  for  earnest  what  he  had 
said  to  his  companion  the  morning  after  the  stampede 
about  this  drive  with  Maxwell  being  his  last.  That 
was  said  without  consideration,  or  at  least  without  any 
very  great  consideration,  but  it  proved  in  the  end 
to  be  a  prophecy.  The  more  he  thought  of  the  words 
he  had  spoken,  the  more  he  determined  to  make  them 
good,  and  he  resolved  to  leave  his  employer  the  mo 
ment  he  could  do  so  with  a  few  hundred  dollars 
ahead,  and  to  begin  in  earnest  the  work  of  making  a 
home  for  himself  and — and,  yes,  Nettie  ;  that  is,  if  she 
had  not  forgotten  him — if  she  had  not  married  some 
one  else. 

He  wondered  if  she  had  forgotten,  if  she  had  mar 
ried.  Sometimes  he  fancied  she  had  and  tried  to  pic 
ture  her  living  in  the  little  old  town  on  the  banks  of 
the  Wabash  as  the  wife  of  one  of  his  former  play 
mates.  At  first  this  idea  rather  amused  him  ;  he  had 
been  gone  long  enough  and  had  seen  enough  of  the 
world  to  have  a  realizing  sense  of  what  a  quiet,  out  of 
the  way  place  it  was.  Not  even  a  flatboat  floating 


PHIL   CALLS    UP   OLD    MEMORIES,  6 1 

down  with  the  current  any  more,  to  break  the  monot 
ony  of  life  in  the  little  town.  True,  there  had  not 
been  many  such  when  he  was  a  boy,  but  he  could  re 
member  a  few ;  could  even  remember  seeing  an  oc 
casional  little  steam  vessel  working  its  way  to  the 
small  city  forty  miles  up  the  stream.  But  all  that 
was  over  now ;  no  steamers,  no  flatboats  even ;  the 
railroads  had  caused  all  that  to  cease  being  profitable, 
and  at  the  same  time  by  building  up  larger  towns  at 
short  distances  away,  had  left  this  little  town  with 
out  a  thing  to  furnish  excitement  or  even  to  stimulate 
conversation.  Thinking  of  it  he  could  not  help  wonder 
ing  if  the  inhabitants  were  still  talking  of  the  last 
flatboat  which  floated  down  the  river  four  years  before 
he  left  and  got  snagged  and  sunk  a  half  mile  below  the 
ferry. 

Ah,  yes,  the  ferry.  He  had  gone  with  Nettie  and 
a  lot  of  other  children  to  see  the  boat  where  she 
lay.  Joe  Bronson  was  among  them  he  remembered. 
He  wondered  if  Joe  lived  there  still,  and  if  he  hadn't 
been  making  up  to  Nettie  during  these  years  of  his  own 
absence. 

Then  he  began  to  be  jealous  of  his  probable  rival. 
The  thought  which  had  but  a  moment  ago  provoked 
but  a  mild  species  of  curiosity,  a  wanting  to  know, 
had,  now,  that  it  took  different  shape  and  a  person 
ality,  excited  an  uneasy  feeling  which  reminded 


62       AND   GROWS   JEALOUS   OF   AN    IMAGINARY    RIVAL. 

of  the  time  he  noticed  Nettie's  shyness,  and  he 
felt  half  tempted  to  quit  the  drive  at  once  and  break 
for  home  then  and  there.  But  he  remembered  his 
boast  of  coming  back  rich  and  he  felt  ashamed  to 
return  empty  handed.  Then  came  thoughts  of  his 
mother  and  all  her  kindness  and  self  sacrifice.  He 
remembered  how  she  had  worked  and  economized 
in  order  that  the  family  might  be  kept  together  and 
comfortable.  He  did  not  realize  it  at  the  time,  but 
he  understood  it  all  now,  and  he  compared  her  labors 
with  his  own  and  her  spending  with  his,  since  he 
started  out  for  himself,  and  he  felt  ashamed  and  humili 
ated.  Hard  as  he  saw  his  own  life  as  a  cowboy  to  have 
been,  he  felt  that  her  life  had  been  incomparably 
harder  ;  for  it  was  a  life  of  ceaseless  toil,  of  duties  never 
ended  and  without  a  thing  to  break  the  monotony  from 
year  end  to  year  end. 

"No  wonder  the  folks  used  to  talk  of  that  flatboat 
getting  snagged  four  years  after  it  occurred,"  he  mut 
tered.  '  'Why,  hang  it  all,  that's  the  only  thing  that  ever 
did  occur  so  far  as  I  can  remember  ;  there  wasn't  any 
thing  else  they  could  talk  about." 

"And  how  mother  used  to  scrimp  and  save  every 
penny  and  go  without  things  herself  for  us  chil 
dren ;"  so  his  mind  ran  on.  "I  believe  the  twenty- 
five  cent  pieces  we  used  to  get  to  spend  at  Christ 
inas  and  the  fourth  of  July  cost  her  more  self-denial 


THE    OTHER   TWO   P'S.  63 

than  it  would  me  to  have  sent  home  a  thousand  dol 
lars." 

"And  father,  too,  he  must  be  getting  old  now  ;  how 
jolly  he  used  to  be  with  us  youngsters.  Think  of  his 
naming  us  triplets  Philip,  Philander  and  Phineas.  He 
must  have  thought  it  a  huge  joke,  and  so  it  was.  Wonder 
now  what  became  of  the  other  two — the  two  that 
died  ?  Reckon  they  ain't  cowboys  ?  Reckon  they 
wouldn't  have  run  away  as  I  did  just  as  I  was 
getting  big  enough  to  pay  for  my  keep,  and  never  let 
'em  know  where  they  were  all  this  time  ?  Hang  me 
if  I  ain't  a  worse  brute  than  one  of  them  longhorn 
steers." 

You  see  he  was  getting  tender  hearted  if  not  sen 
timental,  thinking  of  the  past  and  all  it  had  been  and 
might  have  been. 

Such  thoughts  come  to  us  all  at  times,  I  think ; 
thoughts  of  the  goodness  and  sweetness  of  our  mothers 
— of  the  sacrifices  which  they  have  made  for  us — of  their 
love  for  us  and  sorrow  endured  because  of  us  ;  and  it  is 
well  that  such  thoughts  do  come.  They  seem  to  break 
up  the  crust  of  selfishness  which  forms  about  one's  heart 
in  contact  with  the  world,  and  make  room  for  kindly 
feelings  toward  all  mankind. 

The  result  of  Phil's  thoughts  was  to  change  to  a 
fixed  purpose  the  impulse  which  came  to  him  that 
morning  to  save  his  earnings,  and  as  soon  as  he  could, 


64  PHIL 

with  credit  to  himself,  return  to  his  old  home  and  do 
what  was  possible  to  compensate  his  parents  for  his 
long  absence.  And  he  clenched  his  good  resolution  on 
the  spot  by  sending  from  the  first  town  he  reached  a 
long  letter  to  his  father,  telling  them  of  his  wandering, 
of  his  present  whereabouts  and  firm  purpose  to  begin 
'  laying  up  a  stake, "  and  ended  by  sending  with  it  every 
dollar  of  money  he  had  at  the  time. 


MB.  BROWN,  OF  Nsw  YORK. 


CHAPTER  IV. 

IN  WHICH  MR.  BROWN,  OF  NEW  YORK,  IS  INTRODUCED 
TO  THE  WILD  WEST.  AFTERWARD  HE  BUYS  SOME 
STEERS. 

The  long,  warm  months  of  summer  passed  slowly 
away,  with  the  herd  moving  steadily  nothward,  and 
September  saw  them  still  on  the  road.  But  early  in 
October  the  drive  reached  the  vicinity  of  Caldwell,  Kan 
sas,  and  were  bedded  for  the  last  time  by  the  men  who 
had  brought  them  through  from  the  Rio  Grande,  for 
here  they  were  taken  in  hand  by  partners  of  Maxwell, 
who  shipped  them  East  by  rail. 

Phil  had  expected  a  letter  from  home  to  reach  him 
here,  but  none  awaited  him.  He  had  settled  with  his 
employer,  receiving  his  season's  pay  in  a  lump,  having 
religiously  refrained  from  drawing  any  on  the  long 
drive  ;  being  determined  to  have  at  least  a  nest  egg 
with  which  to  start  out  on  his  own  hook  when  the  drive 
should  end. 

(6$) 


66  MR.    BROWN,    A    "TENDERFOOT.* 

He  drew  wages  for  seven  months,  amounting  to 
over  three  hundred  dollars,  more  money  than  he 
had  ever  possessed  at  any  one  time,  and  had  he  re 
ceived  a  letter  from  home,  as  he  fondly  expected,  I 
am  not  sure  he  would  not  have  weakened  in  his  purpose 
of  not  going  home  until  he  had  made  his  fortune.  Even 
as  it  was  he  felt  strangely  inclined  to  go.  Then 
his  pride  arose,  and  he  began  to  feel  himself  deeply 
wronged. 

They  had  forgotten  him,  he  said,  or  had  never  for 
given  him  for  running  away. 

As  if  a  mother  could  ever  forget  her  child. 

He  had   not  said  anything  in  his  letter  about  Nettie. 

At  first  he  had  thought  he  would,  then  concluded 
not  to,  thinking  his  mother  would  probably  mention 
her  in  the  letter  she  would  write  to  him,  and  so  he 
would  learn  whether  she  was  married  or  not,  without 
having  asked.  Not  getting  any  letter  discouraged  him, 
and  after  giving  up  the  idea  of  going  home  he  felt 
tempted  to  go  on  a  lark,  and  blow  in  every  dollar  of 
his  earnings,  and  return  to  his  old  life  again.  But 
better  thoughts  intervened,  and,  after  lying  around  for 
a  few  days,  he  entered  into  partnership  with  a  '  'tender 
foot,  "  as  a  man  unacquainted  with  frontier  life  is 
called. 

This  stranger,  whose  name  was  Samuel  Brown, 
put  in  four  thousand  dollars  against  Phil's  outfit. 


PHIL   BECOMES   A   CAPITALIST.  6? 

valued  at  three  hundred,  and  his  ready  cash,  three 
hundred  more,  each  to  receive  equally  of  all  profit ; 
Phil's  superior  knowledge  and  experience  being  con 
sidered  an  equivalent  to  Mr.  Brown's  extra  quantity  of 
capital. 

Thus  elevated  to  the  character  of  a  capitalist, 
Phil's  ambition  took  a  fresh  lease  of  life,  and  his 
self  respect  went  up  several  degrees ;  nothing  now 
could  have  tempted  him  to  blow  his  money  in  at  a 
gambling  hell. 

Brown,  his  partner,  although  an  Eastern  man,  and 
unacquainted  with  the  business,  was  evidently  a  man  of 
pluck  and  endurance. 

He  had  been  bred  in  the  city,  but  having  a  natural 
love  for  a  life  of  freedom,  and  hearing  of  the  fortunes 
being  made  in  the  cattle  business,  had  turned  his  little 
capital  into  money  and  gone  West  for  the  purpose  of 
investing  it.  Happening  to  meet  Phil  he  took  a  fancy 
to  him  ;  and  learning  from  the  Maxwells  that  he  was 
trusty  and  experienced,  struck  up  a  partnership  with 
him,  and,  ten  days  after  arriving  in  Caldwell,  Phil  and 
Brown  started  back  along  the  trail  the  former  had  just 
passed  over,  on  their  way  to  buy  a  drove  of  cattle  for 
themselves. 

Nothing  of  special  interest  occurred  on  their  way 
down  ;  that  is,  nothing  of  interest  to  the  reader.  Every 
thing  was  interesting  to  Phil's  partner,  Mr.  Brown, 


68  MR.    BROWN    AND   THE   BUCKING   PONY. 

from  the  start.  Even  the  pony  he  purchased  to  carry 
him  on  the  trip  proved  a  subject  of  absorbing  interest 
for  a  time. 

The  pony  also  appeared  deeply  interested  in  Mr. 
Brown. 

Evidently  he  recognized  him  as  a  "tenderfoot"  at 
sight,  and  the  moment  Mr.  Brown  swung  himself  into 
the  saddle  the  pony  proceeded  to  introduce  him  to  the 
ways  of  the  country  which  he  was»  invading. 

First  he  reached  around  and  took  Mr.  Brown  by 
the  leg,  as  if  feeling  for  his  muscle,  in  an  endeavor  to 
ascertain  the  probabilities  of  his  being  able  to  walk 
to  Texas  in  case  a  necessity  for  doing  so  should 
arise. 

Apparently  satisfied  on  this  point,  and  being  in 
vited  by  Mr.  Brown  to  proceed,  he  proceeded  ;  that 
is,  he  proceeded  to  place  all  four  of  his  feet  close  to 
gether,  put  his  nose  with  his  feet,  and  jump  into 
the  air. 

Brown  went  up  with  him  but  forgot  to  come  down 
when  he  did.  Instead  of  coming  down  with  the 
pony  he  kept  on  going  up,  and  when  he  did  come 
down  he  landed  on  his  head — not  the  pony's  head,  but 

i 

his  own. 

He  lay  doubled  up  in  a  heap  for  a  second  or  two, 
and  then  got  upon  his  feet  and  put  out  his  hand 
and  spread  his  fingers  wide  apart  and  beat  the  air 


THE  BUCKING  PONY  AND  MR.  BROWN.      69 

faintly,  as  if  feeling  around  for  something,  he  did 
not  seem  to  know  just  what.  Then  he  came  to, 
and  straightened  himself  up  and  looked  at  the  pony 
with  blood  in  his  eye  ;  there  was  blood  on  his  nose 
also,  but  that  is  not  worth  mentioning.  Then  the 
pony  turned  his  head  to  one  side  and  looked  at  him, 
brought  his  feet  back  to  their  first  position  and  shook 
himself  as  if  he  had  said:  "Well,  my  young  tender 
foot,  what  do  you  think  of  the  Wild  West  by  this 
time  ?" 

Then  Brown  made  for  him,  and  got  him  by  the 
bridle,  and  crowded  him  up  against  the  corral,  and 
spoke  to  him  in  language  which  encouraged  a  bystander 
to  remark  that  "Brown  would  make  a  success  as  a  cow 
boy  yet." 

Then  Brown  argued  with  the  pony  some  more,  and 
finally  succeeded,  with  the  help  of  two  other  men,  in 
getting  mounted  again  ;  upon  which  the  pony  proceeded 
as  before  to  bring  his  feet  together  under  the  center  of 
his  body,  put  his  nose  to  the  ground  and  spring  about 
eight  feet  into  the  air. 

This  time  Brown  was  expecting  something  of  the 
kind  and  was  prepared  for  it.  He  rose  with  the  pony 
and  also  came  down  with  him,  doing  both  in  'good 
style;  but  as  the  pony  struck  the  ground  stiff-legged  and 
as  this  was  what  Mr.  Brown  was  not  expecting,  he 
immediately  rose  again,  and  when  he  came  down  this 


7O  OFF   IN   GOOD  STYLE. 

time  it  was  on  the  ground  on  the  spot  where  the  pony 
had  stood  a  second  before.  Recognizing  the  fact  that 
Mr.  Brown  had  gone  up  into  the  air  again,  and  his 
experience  with  tenderfeet  not  enabling  him  to  determine 
whether  or  not  he  intended  coming  down,  and,  if  so, 
whether  he  had  any  particular  spot  selected  on  which 
to  alight,  he  considerately  moved  forward  a  few  yards 
and  went  to  nibbling  grass  until  wanted. 

Again  Brown  arose  from  the  ground  and  made  for 
the  pony,  but  so  far  from  being  able  to  m ,  unt  him  was 
he  that  Phil  had  first  to  catch  him  wittf  hi;  lasso,  after 
which,  with  some  help,  Brown  again  jTuitec*  °n>  "pre 
pared  to  stay  with  him,"  he  said;  but  the  pony,  who 
had  done  nothing  for  a  month,  evidently  felt  that  simply 
pitching  Brown  off  was  not  sufficient  exercise,  and  so 
instead  of  bucking  he  started  off  at  a  run,  whereat 
Brown  straightened  up  in  the  saddle  and  having  the 
bridle  to  hold  on  to  succeeded  in  keeping  his  seat.  Phil 
followed  after  at  the  same  rattling  pace  and  the  two 
passed  out  of  the  town  in  what  Brown  felt  to  be  pretty 
good  style.  In  fact  I  think  he  considered  this  part  of 
the  performance  quite  creditable,  as  that  night,  sitting 
about  their  first  camp,  he  remarked  to  Phil  that  he 
wished  he  could  have  had  taken  a  photograph  of  them 
selves  as  they  came  out  of  town,  to  send  back  to  his 
folks. 

This,    however,    did  not  prevent  a  feeling  of  un- 


THE  PRICE  OF  YEARLING  STEERS.  ?I 

certainty  regarding  his  ability  to  stay  with  the  pony  in 
case  he  began  bucking  again,  and  when  they  saddled  up 
the  next  morning,  Phil,  observing  with  what  suspicion 
Brown  eyed  the  pony,  and  knowing  from  experience 
just  how  lame  and  «pre  his  partner  must  be  with  this 
first  day's  riding,  had  compassion  on  him  and  offered 
to  exchange  mounts  until  his  pony  was  thoroughly 
broke  in,  a  proposition  which  Brown  acceded  to  with 
some  apparent  reluctance  but  much  inward  satisfac 
tion. 

In  time  Brown  became  a  fearless  and  fairly  good 
rider  ;  but  I  doubt  if  the  remembrance  of  his  introduction 
to  the  ways  of  the  "Wild  West,"  or  at  least  that  portion 
of  it  represented  by  bucking  ponies,  affords  him  any 
especial  pleasure  even  yet. 

Arriving  in  Texas  the  two  men  bought  four  hundred 
head  of  yearling  steers,  paying  eight  dollars  apiece  for 
them,  and  proposed  to  push  out  into  New  Mexico,  where 
Phil  felt  certain  of  being  able  to  find  a  range  suitable  to 
their  wants. 

They  accordingly  bought  a  wagon  for  the  trans 
portation  of  provisions,  ammunition,  and  the  few  tools 
they  should  need  to  build  a  permanent  camp  with. 
They  bought  a  pair  of  mules  and  harness,  and  hired  a 
cheap  hand  to  act  as  cook  and  to  drive  the  team  on  the 
journey.  They  also  bought  a  number  of  ponies,  about 
half  of  them  being  three-year-old  mares,  so  that  they 


7*  TWO  WAYS   OF   AVOIDING   WAR. 

might  be  making  a  start  toward  raising  their  own  cow 
ponies  while  their  herd  of  steers  was  growing. 

Of  course  they  had  to  go  well  armed. 

While  there  is  really  far  less  lawlessness  and  dis 
regard  for  human  life  among  the  cattle  men  and  cowboys 
along  our  frontiers  than  the  blood  and  thunder  stories 
told  of  them  would  lead  people  to  suppose,  there  are  yet 
a  sufficient  number  of  reckless  characters  among  them  to 
make  it  wise  to  go  armed. 

There  are  two  ways  of  avoiding  the  probabilities  of 
war ;  the  first  one  is  for  no  one  to  carry  any  of  the 
weapons  of  war  ;  the  other  is  for  everybody  to  carry 
them.  The  former  is  undoubtedly  the  best  way  provided 
all  agree  to  it,  but  as  everybody  can  not  be  induced 
to  do  so,  a  proper  regard  for  one's  own  interest  in  life 
and  long-horned  steers  and  Spanish  ponies  is  best  ex 
hibited  in  the  purchase  and  wearing  of  a  brace  of 
revolvers,  to  which — if  two  or  three  are  intending  to 
strike  off  by  themselves  with  a  small  herd — it  is  well  to 
add  a  good  repeating  rifle. 

I  have  noticed  that  the  Indians  especially  have  a 
profound  respect  for  a  repeating  rifle.  Such  as  do  not 
understand  its  workings  regard  it  as  a  device  of  the 
Evil  Spirit  to  assist  in  driving  the  red  man  from  his 
native  plains,  while  such  as  do  understand  it  have  a 
realizing  sense  of  the  danger  involved  in  stealing  cattle 


THROUGH    WESTERN   TEXAS.  7fc 

or  ponies  from  those  in  possession  of  so  formidable  a 
weapon. 

Having  completed  the  purchase  of  their  herd  and 
laid  in  a  good  supply  of  provisions,  the  two  men  set  out 
for  their  destination^  which  point  was,  however,  a  little 
indefinite,  even  in  Phil's  mind. 

He  felt  confident  that  he  should  find  plenty  of  feed 
on  the  route  he  had  marked  out  for  them  to  take,  and 
therefore  was  not  uneasy  about  the  matter,  as  they 
could  move  leisurely  and  settle  down  whenever  a  good 
bit  of  unoccupied  range  with  plenty  of  water  presented 
itself ;  and  for  this  purpose  they  had  reserved  a  few 
hundred  dollars  to  be  used,  if  need  be,  in  buying  out 
some  one  who  had  enough  of  this  kind  of  life  and  was 
anxious  to  go  back  to  civilization. 

Accordingly  they  struck  across  country  until  they 
reached  the  Pecos  river,  which  stream  they  followed  up 
for  a  time  and  finally  crossed,  in  order  to  secure  the 
better  pasturage  skirting  the  foothills  of  the  Guadaloupe 
range  of  mountains,  thus  avoiding  the  staked  plains 
with  their  scarcity  of  water — for  which  they  are  only 
too  well  known,  as  many  a  hapless  ranger  and  cattle 
man  can  testify — crossed  the  Big  Bonita  river,  and 
finally  pitched  camp  on  a  little  stream  which  enters  the 
Pecos  river  fifty  or  seventy-five  miles  above  the  Bonita, 
and  not  far  from  opposite  old  Fort  Stanton,  which 
is  on  the  other  side  of  the  Guadaloupe  range. 


74  INTO   NEW   MEXICO. 

They  were  more  fortunate  in  this  than  they  had 
hoped,  as  they  found  the  range  unoccupied  and  un 
appropriated,  and  they  at  once  took  steps  to  enter  it, 
at  the  government  price  of  a  dollar  and  a  quarter  an 
acre.  That  is,  they  entered  three  hundred  and  twenty 
acres  lying  along  the  head  waters  of  the  creek,  thus 
securing  control  of  the  water  privilege,  which  meant 
virtual  control  of  the  whole  range  adjoining  for  as  many 
miles  as  would  suffice  to  pasture  what  cattle  could  be 
watered  at  the  stream. 

True,  this  is  hardly  what  the  spirit  of  our  institu 
tions  is  supposed  to  intend  or  sustain,  but  such  is  the 
letter  of  the  law,  and  such  its  application  throughout 
the  West  generally.  Nor  is  this  all,  nor  the  wont  of  it ; 
in  many  places  the  continued  sole  occupancy  of  great 
tracts  by  large  cattle  owners  and  syndicates  of  owners 
has  led  them  to  presume  to  a  permanent  and  absolute 
ownership  of  the  whole  tract,  and  in  many  cases  they 
have  erected  barbed  wire  fences  hundreds  of  miles  in 
length,  inclosing  hundreds  of  thousands — even  millions 
of  acres,  and  are  prepared  to  defend  their  claims  in  the 
courts.  That  they  should  deem  it  possible  to  do  so  suc 
cessfully  will  doubtless  appear  ridiculous  to  the  reader 
until  he  stops  to  consider  the  fact  that  the  control  of  so 
much  land  and  of  the  capital  necessary  to  stock  it, 
thereby  making  it  profitable  to  rnclose  it,  is  quite 


PREPARING   TO   BECOME    CATTLE   KINGS.  JT$ 

sufficient  to  make  and  unmake  courts  in  most  countries, 
and  may  well  prove  to  be  so  here. 

This  was  something,  however,  upon  which  neither 
Phil  Johnson  nor  Sam  Brown  felt  compelled,  or  even 
greatly  inclined,  to  moralize. 

They  had  come  for  the  purpose  of  finding  a  range 
for  their  steers,  and  they  sought  for  and  secured  it  in 
accordance  with  the  letter  of  the  law  and  the  custom  of 
the  country.  They  intended  laying  the  foundation  of  a 
business  that  should  grow  into  something  big  by  and  by. 
They  meant  to  herd  their  yearlings  here  two  years  and 
then  put  them  on  the  market,  and  use  the  proceeds  of 
the  sale  to  buy  another  and  larger  lot,  and  so  continue 
until  they  had  a  big  herd  and  could  afford  to  hire  men 
to  care  for  them,  while  they  took  things  easy  "a  la 
cattle  king." 

This  was  the  expression  Brown  used  one  night  as 
they  sat  chatting  about  the  camp  fire,  while  the  steers 
lay  quietly  resting  in  front  of  them. 

Phil  did  not  understand  exactly  what  "a  la  cattle 
king"  meant,  but  he  was  too  sharp  to  "give  himself 
away" — in  the  current  slang  of  the  time — and  quietly 
listened  for  some  other  expression  which  should  throw 
light  on  it. 

Having  fixed  on  a  location  for  their  permanent  camp, 
the  next  thing  to  do  was  to  erect  a  log  house,  which  was 


76  TAKING  SOLID  COMFORT. 

no  very  difficult  job,  as  scattering  timber  lined  the  creek 
bank. 

A  rough  stockade,  sufficient  to  hold  the  steers  at 
night  and  thus  save  the  trouble  and  exposure  of  night 
watching,  was  a  work  of  more  difficulty,  but  was  finally 
accomplished — being  built  partly  of  timber  and  partly 
of  rock  gathered  along  the  creek  bank,  and  where  the 
underlying  ledge  cropped  out  upon  little  ridges  here  and 
there  over  the  prairie. 

And  then  the  '  'pards"  settled  down  to  what  they  were 
inclined  to  regard  as  solid  comfort. 

As  there  were  no  other  herds,  or  at  least  no  large 
ones,  very  near  them,  they  had  little  fear  of  the  cattle 
getting  mixed  up  with  others  and  so  taken  off  their  own 
range ;  and  with  a  stockade  to  which  they  could  be 
driven  at  night,  whenever  it  appeared  desirable,  the 
labor  of  herding  them  was  very  little  and  left  plenty  of 
time  for  hunting. 

They  therefore  discharged  the  hand  who  had  acted 
as  cook  and  teamster,  turned  the  mules  out  to  graze 
with  the  ponies  and  did  the  cooking  by  turns  between 
them. 

Their  principal  fear  now  was  of  Indians. 

The  chief  range  of  the  Apaches  was  to  the  south  and 
on  the  other  side  of  the  mountains  ;  but  they  were  known 
to  be  in  the  habit  of  making  excursions  far  north  of  the 
spot  where  Phil  and  Brown  had  located,  and  the  sight 


THE  APACHE  INDIANS.  77 

of  a  bunch  of  young  cattle  is  a  temptation  not  always, 
if  ever,  resisted,  provided  the  danger  of  appropriating 
them  is  not  too  great. 

However,  the  partners  decided  not  to  let  this  fact 
worry  them  or  cause  them  to  enjoy  in  any  less  degree 
the  situation,  which  to  Phil,  after  his  years  of  harder 
services,  seemed  to  be  an  exceedingly  soft  thing ;  while 
Brown,  for  the  very  opposite  reason,  he  having  no 
previous  experience,  was  charmed  with  the  variety  of 
his  surroundings  and  the  freedom  of  the  life  he  was 
leading. 

Deer  and  antelope  abounded  ;  herds  of  buffalo  were 
by  no  means  unfrequent,  and  jack  rabbits  were  every 
where,  so  that  there  was  lack  neither  of  sport  nor  of 
meat  in  variety  for  the  daily  fare  ;  and  with  the  ad 
dition  of  corn  meal,  with  which  to  make  bread,  coffee 
and  bacon  for  a  change  and  seasoning,  the  partners 
lived  like  kings  and  enjoyed  life  to  the  utmost. 

Among  other  incidents  of  their  daily  life  was  one  in 
which  Sam  again  figured,  in  connection  with  that  bucking 
pony. 

Riding  slowly  along  near  the  quietly  feeding  herd 
one  fine  morning,  a  mule-eared  rabbit  suddenly  sprung 
up  from  behind  a  sage  bush  almost  at  the  pony's  feet, 
and  started  off  with  that  peculiar  lope  for  which  he  is 
noted,  when  Sam  took  it  into  his  head  to  have  a  little 
sport  racing  him  ;  accordingly  he  gave  the  pony  a  dig 


/8  BROWN   AND   THE    MULE-EARED   RABBIT. 

with  his  spurs  and  away  they  went.  The  race  had 
continued  for  a  mile  or  so  when  the  rabbit  darted  be 
hind,  or  rather  into,  a  clump  of  sage  brush  growing  on 
the  edge  of  a  bit  of  a  ravine  which  headed  but  a  few 
yards  or  rods  away,  but  which  at  the  place  where  the 
sage  brush  grew  was  possibly  six  feet  across  and  three 
or  four  feet  deep,  the  water  having  washed  out  the 
earth  from  what  was  evidently  a  seam  in  the  limestone 
rock,  leaving  nearly  perpendicular  and  very  solid 
walls. 

Now,  Sam  had  never  chanced  to  cross  the  ravine  at 
this  particular  spot,  or  if  he  had  done  so  he  had  forgotten 
the  locality,  and  when  the  rabbit  darted  into  the  clump 
of  sage  brush  and  squatted,  Sam  thought  him  still  mak 
ing  time  on  the  other  side  and  so  came  ahead  full  tilt ; 
but  just  as  he  reached  the  bushes  where  the  rabbit  sat, 
and  was  expecting  his  pony  to  clear  them  at  a  bound 
the  pony  concluded  that  there  was  no  use  of  his  going 
any  further  until  the  rabbit  started  on  again,  and  stop 
ped  ;  but  his  rider,  who  was  standing  up  in  his  stirrups 
endeavoring  to  get  sight  of  the  game,  continued  going 
right  along  and  landed  on  his  stomach  on  the  other  side 
of  the  ravine.  Now,  the  rabbit,  which  had  squatted  in 
the  brush,  decided  to  start  on  again  just  at  this  time 
also.  Possibly  it  was  a  glimpse  of  Sam  as  he  came 
sailing  over  that  induced  him  to  start  just  as  he  did. 
Be  that  as  it  may,  he  did  start  and  just  in  taoe  to  land 


FORGIVENESS.  79 

upon  the  opposite  side  at  exactly  the  same  instant  that 
Sam  landed,  but  unfortunately  for  the  rabbit,  as  fortun 
ately  for  Sam,  the  rabbit  was  under,  and  while  serving 
to  break  the  other's  fall  had  the  life  crushed  out  of  him 
by  the  performance.  It  is  probably  the  only  instance 
of  a  man  being  thrown  from  a  bucking  pony  upon  the 
game  he  was  chasing,  and  the  result  of  the  accident 
helped  Sam  to  forgive  the  source  of  it, 


CHAPTER  V. 

A   COTILLION   AT   THE   CAMP,    DURING   WHICH     THE     MUSIC 
SUDDENLY   CHANGES. 

What  with  the  care  of  their  herd,  the  pleasures  of 
the  chase  and  an  occasional  visit  to  or  from  the  owners 
of  other  herds,  the  time  passed  swiftly  enough,  and  the 
yearlings  which  they  had  bought  in  Texas  at  eight  dol 
lars  a  head  were  become  two-year-olds,  and  having  had 
good  range  and  good  water  were  worth  nearly  twice 
what  they  cost,  and  the  partners  were  beginning  to  count 
the  months  before  they  should  commence  their  long 
drive  to  some  point  East  where  they  could  sell  to  ad 
vantage  or  ship  to  Chicago  by  rail. 

They  could  sell  their  cattle  on  the  spot — that  they 
knew  very  well — and  quite  probably,  too,  for  as  good 
a  figure  as  they  could  get  in  Kansas  or  Chicago, 
making  allowance  for  cost  and  possible  or  probable 
loss  on  the  drive,  for  two  or  three  thousand  head 

(80) 


DBFBNDING  THS  RANCH. 


SELLING   AND   SHIPPING   STEERS.  8 1 

can  be  driven  a  long  distance  almost  as  cheaply  as 
four  hundred  where  pasturage  costs  nothing ;  and 
there  were  plenty  of  buyers  for  a  fine  bunch,  such 
as  they  had.  It  would  be  difficult  indeed  for  a  man 
with  a  likely  bunch  of  steers  to  get  into  so  remote 
and  inaccessible  a  nook  of  country  that  no  one  wish 
ing  to  buy  them  should  find  him  out,  and  these 
friends  of  ours  had  not  sought  to  do  such  a  thing  <as 
that. 

There  were  other  ranches  within  distances  easily 
covered  by  a  pony  in  the  space  of  a  few  hours,  in  either 
of  three  directions,  and  all  these,  of  course,  knew 
of  the  Brown-Johnson  ranch  and  of  their  likely  bunch 
of  cattle,  so  that  if  it  had  been  understood  that  they 
wanted  to  sell  either  cattle  or  ranch,  they  would  easily 
have  found  a  buyer. 

But  the  partners  had  about  decided  not  only  to 
drive  but  to  ship  their  cattle.  Brown  especially  urged 
this  every  time  they  talked  together  on  the  subject.  He 
wanted  to  make  the  trip  East  and  see  the  folks  once 
more,  he  said;  then  he  would  come  back  and  they 
would  start  in  afresh,  and  stay  two  more  years  without 
going  out,  by  which  time  they  would  be  pretty  well 
fixed. 

Phil  did  not  know  which  he  wanted  to  do ;  of 
course  he  was  anxious  to  sell  to  advantage,  and  at 


82  PHIL   WRITES   HOME   AGAIN. 

times  he  felt  favorably  inclined  to  his  partner's  prop 
osition  to  take  the  cattle  clear  through  themselves, 
when  the  time  came.  These  were  the  times  when 
the  desire  to  know  what  had  become  of  the  old 
place  and  Nettie  were  strongest  with  him.  At  such  mo 
ments  he  felt  that  he  must  go  back  to  the  litte  old 
town  on  the  Wabash,  and  see  for  himself  what  was  the 
cause  of  his  getting  no  answer  to  his  letters — I  say 
letters,  for  he  had  written  a  second  letter  home  soon 
after  locating  their  ranch,  and  had  ridden  forty  miles  to 
mail  it. 

In  it  he  had  expressed  his  regrets  for  the  manner 
of  his  leaving,  and  still  deeper  regrets  for  having  re 
mained  so  long  silent  after  leaving,  and  had  asked, 
humbly  enough,  that  he  be  made  acquainted  with  the 
condition  of  things  in  the  family  and  the  neighborhood, 
making  special  mention  of  Nettie.  But,  though  he  had 
twice  ridden  the  same  road  which  he  took  to  mail  his 
letter,  and  had  twice  sent  by  others,  he  received  no 
reply  nor  in  any  way  obtained  the  slightest  information 
from  home.  Hence  his  changeful  feeling  about  a  trip 
which  would  bring  him  so  near  the  old  familiar 
spot  that  no  possible  reason  could  exist  for  his  not  visit 
ing  it. 

At  times,  as  I  have  said,  he  determined  to  go  ;  at 
other  times  he  was  equally  decided  in  his  feelings  that 
he  had  nothing  to  go  for,  inasmuch  as  his  family  and 


CAMP   OUT  OF  COFFEE.  83 

friends  ignored  his  effort  to  establish  communication 
with  them,  and  appeared  willing  to  forget  that  he  had 
an  existence. 

Before  any  necessity  for  a  final  settlement  of  his 
mind  on  this  point  arose,  it  was  settled  for  him  in  a  way 
he  had  not  taken  into  his  calculations. 

He  was  alone  with  the  herd  one  day,  Brown  having 
ridden  over  to  one  of  the  neighboring  camps  to  borrow 
some  coffee,  of  which  they  had  run  short,  and  every 
thing  being  quiet  and  the  steers  feeding  in  a  bunch,  he 
concluded  to  gallop  back  to  the  cabin,  about  three 
miles  away,  and  get  himself  some  dinner. 

His  doing  so  quite  probably  saved  his  life.  He  had 
gone  only  about  a  half  mile,  when  glancing  back  over 
his  shoulder,  he  discovered  the  whole  herd  flying  in 
wild  confusion  across  the  range  in  the  direction  of  the 
mountains,  followed  and  urged  on  by  about  fifty 
Apache  Indians  mounted  on  ponies.  They  were  on  one 
of  their  periodical  raids,  and  the  Brown-Johnson  ranch 
being  among  those  nearest  to  the  mountains,  where 
alone  they  could  expect  to  escape  the  pursuit  that  was 
sure  to  follow,  had  been  selected  by  them  as  one  to  be 
stampeded. 

Fortunately,  or  unfortunately,  as  the  case  may  be, 
they  had  struck  the  ranch  on  the  day  when  Phil  was 
alone  in  charge  of  the  herd,  and,  keeping  on  the 


84  ATTACKED   BY   INDIANS. 

opposite  side  of  a  ridge  of  some  prominence,  had  ap 
proached  within  a  short  distance  of  the  cattle  unseen, 
and  were  about  in  the  act  of  making  a  dash  over  the 
ridge  and  upon  the  herd  and  Phil,  when  he  suddenly 
took  it  into  his  head  to  ride  back  to  camp  for  his 
dinner.  Had  he  remained  it  is  not  at  all  impossible 
that  a  bullet  would  have  found  its  way  to  his  heart 
before  he  could  have  sheltered  himself  behind  any 
thing  or  gotten  out  of  range  of  their  rifles.  As  it 
was,  his  first  impulse  was  to  turn  back  and  give 
battle  single  handed  to  the  whole  pack  of  them,  but 
in  this  he  was  given  no  option,  for,  even  as  he  hesi 
tated  whether  to  follow  his  inclination  and  sell  his  life, 
if  need  be,  as  dearly  as  possible,  or  obey  the  dictates 
of  his  judgment  and  endeavor  to  escape  and  notify 
the  neighboring  ranchers,  a  dozen  or  more  of  the 
Indians  turned  their  ponies'  heads  and  made  a  dash 
straight  for  him. 

Phil  knew  well  enough  it  would  not  do  to  permit 
himself  to  be  surrounded  there  on  the  open  prairie,  for 
while  with  his  long-reaching  Winchester  he  could  keep 
a  large  number  at  bay  when  approaching  him  in  front, 
yet,  if  he  became  surrounded  they  would  crawl  upon 
him  from  all  sides,  concealed  by  bunches  of  high  grass 
and  sage  brush  that  were  scattered  about,  and  before 
he  knew  of  their  exact  location  some  of  them  would 


THINGS   LOOK   SERIOUS.  85 

get  in  tb*"ir  work,  and  his  days  of  cow  punching  would 
be  over. 

Besides  this,  his  experience  told  him  that  if  he  ex 
pected  to  get  back  more  than  a  scattering  steer  or  two 
of  the  cattle  they  were  stampeding,  the  thing  to  do  was 
to  raise  a  crowd  from  the  neighboring  camps  and  make 
pursuit  as  quickly  as  possible.  Accordingly  he  turned 
his  pony  about,  and  putting  spurs  to  his  flank  dashed 
away  at  the  top  of  his  speed,  still  in  the  direction  of  his 
camp,  beyond  which,  at  a  distance  of  fifteen  miles,  lay 
the  camp  nearest  his  own. 

But  before  he  had  covered  half  the  distance  between 
himself  and  his  cabin,  it  became  evident  that  the  race 
was  to  be  a  close  one.  The  Indians  were  well  mounted, 
and,  encouraged  by  the  knowledge  that  their  intended 
victim  could  not  turn  in  his  saddle  and  fire  at  them  with 
any  great  precision  of  aim,  came  riding  down  upon  him 
whooping  and  yelling  like  so  many  fiends  let  loose  from 
pandemonium. 

They  were  within  long  rifle  shot  when  the  race  be 
gan,  owing  to  Phil's  momentary  indecision,  and  if  they 
were  to  gain  on  him,  even  by  so  much  as  a  few  rods,  he 
stood  a  chance  of  being  hit  by  the  volley  which  he  knew 
would  be  fired  the  moment  they  believed  the  chance  of 
killing  him  worth  the  trying  it.  Things  began  to  look 
serious  ;  it  was  bad  enough  to  lose  the  steers — it  would 
be  worse  to  lose  his  scalp.  He  glanced  back  over  his 


86  A   RACE   FOR   LIFE. 

shoulder.  They  were  gaining  on  him,  sure  as  fate. 
Three  or  four  of  their  best  mounted  had  perceptibly 
lessened  the  distance  between  him  and  them  already, 
and  the  camp  was  yet  a  long  mile  away.  Once  there  he 
could  make  a  stand  and  hold  them  at  bay — he  did  not 
doubt  that ;  one  good  man  behind  entrenchments 
and  with  a  Winchester  rifle  and  plenty  of  ammuni 
tion,  could  hold  twice  that  number  of  Indians  at  bay 
for  almost  any  length  of  time — but  could  he  reach 
there  ? 

He  struck  with  his  spurs  anew  and  mercilessly  ;  he 
raked  his  pony's  sides  with  the  cruel  steel,  but  the  poor 
brute  was  already  putting  forth  his  best  efforts,  and 
could  add  nothing  to  his  speed. 

Again  Phil  turned  his  head  and  glanced  back,  and  as 
he  did  so  he  heard  the  sharp  crack  of  a  rifle,  and  a 
bullet  whizzed  past  him.  They  were  already  within 
range  and  a  half  mile  still  lay  between  him  and  the 
cabin  ;  a  half  mile,  and  a  dozen  savages  raining  bullets 
about  himself  and  pony  ;  for  now  that  the  ball  was 
opened  every  one  of  them  appeared  anxious  to  furnish 
music  for  the  cotillion,  and  all  began  firing. 

But  none  of  the  bullets  touched  either  the  rider  or 
his  pony,  and  now  that  the  reds  had  emptied  their  rifles 
Phil  felt  that  his  chances  had  improved  greatly. 

What  he  had  feared  was  that  they  would  reserve 
their  fire  until  they  were  so  close  that  he  would  have 


AN   APACHE   BULLET.  / 

short  time  to  take  shelter,  even  if  he  reached  the  cabin 
or  the  stockade  ;  but  now,  unless  they  could  reload,  he 
knew  they  would  slacken  their  pace  the  moment  it  be 
came  evident  that  he  was  going  to  reach  shelter  ahead 
of  them,  and  thus  seek  to  avoid  a  return  shot  at  too 
close  quarters. 

"Just  let  me  reach  shelter  and  I'll  furnish  some  of 
the  music  for  this  fandango  myself,"  muttered  Phil  as 
the  bullets  whistled  past  his  ears.  "You  devils  have 
had  your  time  and  played  your  tune — next  comes  my 
time  to  play,  and  if  I  don't  make  some  of  you  dance  the 
dance  of  death  I'm  mightily  mistaken  !" 

But  Phil  was  wrong  in  his  calculation  when  he 
thought  the  savages  had  emptied  their  weapons  in  that 
one  discharge.  Several  of  them  were  possessed  of  re 
peating  rifles  equal  to  that  which  Phil  himself  carried — 
rifles  captured  in  a  raid  they  had  made  some  months 
previous  on  the  settlers  upon  the  other  side  of  the 
mountains — and  the  first  volley  was  followed  by  another 
and  another  and  another,  until  bullets  appeared  as  thick 
about  him  and  his  pony  as  bees  about  a  hive  at  swarm 
ing  time  ;  and  just  as  he  neared  the  cabin  and  began  to 
congratulate  himself  upon  his  escape,  there  came  a 
stinging  sensation  in  his  side,  and  at  the  same  time  he 
felt  his  pony  sinking  to  the  ground  beneath  him.  In  an 
instant  he  had  withdrawn  his  feet  from  the  stirrups  and 
sprung  from  the  saddle. 


88  THE   MUSIC   CHANGES. 

He  feared  that  he  would  fall  to  the  ground  when  he 
lit — feared  that  he  had  been  seriously  wounded,  but  in 
stead  he  found  himself  firm  on  his  legs,  and  his  legs 
making  double  quick  time  for  the  shanty  now  only  a  few 
yards  away. 

The  savages  greeted  the  fall  of  the  pony  with  re 
newed  yells  and  came  straight  on,  firing  again,  but 
ineffectually,  and  were  within  pistol  range  of  the  cabin 
around  the  corner  of  which  Phil  was  darting,  when 
"crack,"  "crack,"  rang  out  the  report  of  two  rifles  with 
in,  and  two  of  the  Indians,  throwing  up  their  arms 
wildly,  fell. 

"Crack,"  "crack,"  "crack,"  "crack,"  came  the  shots 
from  the  cabin  in  swift  succession,  and  "crack,"  crack," 
went  Phil's  Winchester  from  the  corner,  and  two  more 
reds  swayed  back  and  forth  and  then  fell  forward,  as 
their  ponies  swerved  sharply  to  the  right  or  left  in  the 
wake  of  their  companions,  whose  riders  were  now  urging 
them  to  as  great  speed  in  their  efforts  to  get  away  from 
the  cabin  as  a  moment  before  they  had  urged  them  to 
ward  it. 

"Told  you  the  music  was  going  to  change,"  yelled 
Phil  as  he  lowered  his  Winchester,  after  seeing  that 
the  last  of  the  Indians  was  out  of  range.  "This  is  a 
quickstep  of  another  kind,  you  see  ;  sorry  you  can't  stop 
and  enjoy  it." 


MIGHTILY  OBLIGED,  8p 

" Are  you  hurt,   Phil?" 

<  'Where  are  you  hurt,  Phil  ?"  came  in  the  same 
breath  and  from  two  different  voices,  and  the  next  in 
stant  Sam  Brown  and  a  man  by  the  name  of  Peters, 
a  cowboy  from  the  ranch  which  Brown  had  started  to 
ride  over  to  in  the  morning,  rushed  out  of  the  cabin 
and  up  to  him. 

"I  reckon  I  ain't  seriously  scalded  yet,"  answered 
Phil,  "but  I'm  mightily  obliged  to  you  fellows  for 
being  here  just  at  this  time  ;  I  only  wish  you  had  come 
a  little  earlier.  I  doubt  if  them  devils  of  Apaches 
would  have  raided  us  if  there  had  been  three  instead 
of  one.  But  I'll  not  complain,  though  I  think  I've 
got  a  scratch  that  will  help  me  to  remember  this 
little  scrimmage.  Here,  boys,  you've  done  me  one 
good  turn,  now  do  me  another  ;  help  me  to  ascertain 
the  extent  of  the  damage  done  by  that  Apache's 
bullet." 

On  examination  the  wound  proved  to  be  no  more 
than  a  scratch,  and  of  no  serious  consequence.  The 
ball  had  been  fired  from  a  line  a  few  feet  to  the  right 
of  directly  behind  him  and  had  passed  under  his  arm 
as  he  leaned  forward  in  his  saddle  and  cut  a  furrow 
half  its  own  thickness  and  three  inches  long,  in  the 
flesh  over  his  heart,  and  then  buried  itself  in  the 
neck  of  his  pony,  who  nevertheless  recovered  from  the 


9O  THE   FALLEN   SAVAGES. 

wound  given  him  and  is  still    in  service,    or  at  least  fit 
for  it. 

As  soon  as  the  extent  of  Phil's  hurt  had  been  as 
certained,  a  hasty  consultation  was  held  and  a  course  of 
action  decided  on. 

First  a  cautious  examination  into  the  condition  of 
the  fallen  savages  was  made,  and  three  of  them  found 
to  be  dead  enough.  The  fourth  was  severely  wounded 
but  not  dead,  neither  likely  to  die  immediately ; 
hence  came  the  question  of  how  to  dispose  of  him, 
and  as  neither  of  the  men  could  get  his  own  consent 
to  dispatch  him,  it  was  decided  to  carry  him  to  the 
cabin,  bind  up.  his  wounds  the  best  that  could  be 
done  under  the  circumstances,  place  food  and  water 
where  he  could  reach  it  and  leave  him  to  take  his 
chances  and  live  or  die  as  the  fates  should  determine, 
while  an  effort  was  being  made  to  retake  the  stampeded 
steers.  > 

As  the  three  men  stood  over  the  wounded  Indian 
discussing  place  for  his  disposal  he  watched  them  with 
immovable  features  and  without  uttering  so  much  as  a 
groan.  They  thought  him  too  badly  wounded  to  be 
capable  of  any  effort,  either  offensive  or  defensive  ;  and 
he  evidently  thought  them  discussing  the  manner  in 
which  they  would  put  an  end  to  him.  Either  that,  or 
his  hatred  of  them  was  superior  to  his  fear  of  death,  for 


A  HUMANE   ACT.  91 

as  they  stooped  to  pick  him  up  he  suddenly  made  a 
vicious  lunge  at  one  of  them  with  his  knife.  His  arm 
was  weak,  however,  and  the  knife  was  knocked  from 
his  hand  by  Peters  without  any  one  being  injured,  and 
without  so  much  as  a  word  of  comment  he  was  carried 
— though  I  fear  not  too  gently — into  the  cabin  and 
laid  on  one  of  the  bunks.  He  was  shot  through  the 
body  just  above  the  hips,  and  his  chances  did  not 
appear  worth  any  great  amount  of  money  for  live  stock, 
so  the  men  decided  ;  but  such  as  they  were  he  was  to  be 
permitted  to  keep  them  all.  A  bandage  was  therefore 
put  about  his  body  over  the  wound,  and  food  placed 
within  reach,  as  also  all  the  vessels  in  the  house  which 
would  hold  water,  so  that  the  savage  might  not  only 
have  drink  but  to  dampen  the  cloths  over  his  wounds, 
and  then  the  three  men  mounted  their  ponies  and  rode 
away  ;  Phil  on  the  animal  which  had  brought  Peters  to 
the  ranch,  Brown  riding  his  own  pony,  the  two  strik 
ing  out  on  the  trail  of  the  stampeded  herd,  while  Peters 
took  Phil's  wounded  pony  and  made  back  as  rapidly 
as  possible  under  the  circumstances  to  his  own  camp, 
where  he  could  get  a  fresh  mount  and  from  where  mes 
sengers  would  be  sent  in  hot  haste  to  all  the  surround 
ing  camps,  putting  them  on  their  guard  and  raising  a 
crowd  from  among  them  to  follow  on  and  aid,  if  pos 
sible,  in  re-taking  the  stolen  cattle,  and  in  punishing" the 
thieves. 


92  THE  REGULAR  ARMY  AND  THE  ARMY  OF  COWBOYS. 

Once,  when  relating  to  a  number  of  gentlemen  the 
incident  of  the  wounded  savage,  one  of  the  number 
expressed  to  the  writer  his  surprise  at  the  feelings  of 
common  humanity  displayed  by  Brown  and  Peters  and 
Johnson  in  the  matter.  I  wish,  therefore,  to  say  here, 
that  while  on  general  principles  a  cowboy  hates  an 
Indian,  and  accepts,  and  may  often  be  heard  repeating, 
the  old  saw — 

'  'Live  India'n  bad  Indian, 
Dead  Indian  good  Indian," 

it  does  not  follow  therefore,  that  the  cowboy  is  a  brute 
devoid  of  all  feelings  of  pity  or  humanity,  or  that  he 
takes  pleasure  in  or  can  even  be  induced  by  anger  or 
by  the  blood  and  thunder  stories  of  writers  who  have 
never  been  within  a  thousand  miles  of  danger  from  a 
redskin,  to  do  so  contemptible  or  cowardly  a  thing  as 
in  cold  blood  to  kill  a  wounded  enemy,  even  though 
he  be  an  Apache  Indian  and  engaged  in  stampeding 
stock.  There  may  be  some  such  men  in  the  regular 
army.  I  have  heard  it  so  said  ;  I  do  not  know  if  it  is 
true  or  not,  but  there  are  none  such  among  the  cowboys 
of  Texas  and  the  Territories,  at  least  I  hope  not  and  I 
believe  not. 

The  regular  army  and  the  army  of  cowboys  are 
differently  made  up.  Men  may  enter  the  former  who 
are  too  lazy  or  too  cowardly  to  earn  a  living  at  any 
other  calling,  and  once  in  they  have  to  stay ;  but 


A  GOOD  INDIAN.  93 

cowards  and  lazy  people  never  engage  in  the  business  of 
punching  steers  on  the  great  plains,  or  if  by  chance 
such  a  one  starts  in,  it  is  safe  to  say  he  throws  up  the 
job  within  forty-eight  hours.  The  man  who  sticks  is 
neither  lazy  nor  cowardly,  and  though  the  life  they 
lead  makes  them  coarse  and  sometimes,  nay,  generally, 
cruelly  indifferent  to  the  suffering  of  animals,  they  yet 
are  not  so  hardened  that  any  need  express  surprise  at 
an  act  of  common  humanity  done  by  them  to  a  wounded 
savage. 

Neither  have  I  introduced  this  incident  or  this 
particular  Apache  to  the  readers  of  this  narrative  for 
the  purpose  of  having  a  grateful  Indian  upon  whom  I 
may  depend  for  help  in  getting  my  hero  out  of  the 
hands  of  the  tribe  just  as  their  braves  hold  a  council  and 
decide  to  burn  him  at  the  stake,  after  the  fashion  set  by 
the  blood  and  thunder  novelists.  I  have  no  hero  and 
no  heroine  ;  I  do  but  tell  of  things  that  have  been,  and 
he  who  writes  of  incidents  as  they  actually  transpire  and 
of  men  as  they  are  has  no  need  of  such  aids  in  the 
making  of  an  interesting  book  ;  and  I  may  as  well  state 
now  as  later,  that  when  Phil  and  Sam  returned  to  the 
cabin,  after  their  absence  in  trailing  the  stampeded 
cattle,  the  wounded  Indian  was  dead  ;  upon  the  disv  every  ' 
of  which  fact  they  set  fire  to  the  cabin  and  cremated  the 
body  in  the  best  style  possible  under  the  circumstances. 
Doing  it,  not  because  they  had  any  prejudices  aga'mt 


94  A  GOOD  INDIAN. 

the  ordinary  method  of  burial,    but   because  they  pre 
ferred  building  a  new  cabin,  when  they  should  need  it, 
to   the   work  of  removing  the   remains   of    the    deail 
i  savage. 


'I'D  BH  CONTENTED  TO  LIB  AMONG  THB  ROCKS  A  WHOLE  WEEK  SHOCXIWO.t  19 
TH3  TAKQKTS  WKK&  APACHSS." 


CHAPTER  VI. 

SUCCESSFUL  STRATAGEM — SAM  TELLS  HOW  HE  AND 
PETERS  CHANCED  TO  BE  AT  THE  SHANTY. 

As  Phil  and  his  partner  galloped  along  on  the  trail  of 
the  stampeded  herd,  keeping  a  sharp  lookout,  not  only 
for  Indians  but  for  any  cattle  that  might  have  broken 
away  from  their  captors,  they  had  little  opportunity  and 
not  much  disposition  to  talk.  In  such  situations  men 
think  little  and  talk  less  of  the  business  immediately  in 
hand,  and  when  there  is  no  need  of  their  talking  of  that 
they  talk  not  at  all.  When  one  knows  that  behind  each 
rock  or  bush  that  he  sees  may  lurk  a  foe  in  wait  to  put 
a  bullet  through  his  heart,  one  uses  his  eyes  rather  than 
his  tongue. 

Sam  and  Phil  had  no  fear  of  an  open  attack  or  of  an 
attack  by  great  numbers. 

The  main  body  of  Indians  were  undoubtedly  with 
the  stampeded  herd,  rushing  them  along  toward  the 

<93> 


96      ON  THB  TRAIL  OF  THE  STOLEN  STEERS. 

mountains,  but  they  could  well  spare  a  few  of  their 
number  to  scout  along  in  the  rear  and  endeavor  to  check 
pursuit,  or  if  the  pursuers  were  too  numerous  for  that, 
to  notify  their  companions  and  enable  them  to  take  ad 
vantage  of  the  knowledge  in  making  their  escape,  and 
the  possibility  that  at  any  moment  they  might  be  fired 
on  from  cover  necessitated  the  utmost  caution  consistent 
with  the  making  of  reasonable  progress. 

They  therefore  rode  in  almost  absolute  silence  ;  now, 
with  eyes  sweeping  the  prairie  on  every  side  for  straggling 
steers  ;  now,  scanning  closely  every  bush  or  stone  or 
bunch  of  tall  grass  capable  of  giving  ambush  to  a  lurk 
ing  foe. 

Neither  did  they  follow  the  trail  too  closely,  but 
turned  to  the  right  or  left  around  each  little  elevation 
behind  which  their  enemies  might  be  awaiting  them, 
for,  as  Sam  laconically  expressed  it,  their  cattle  were 
not  worth  exchanging  their  scalps  for,  and  if  he  could 
not  have  both  he  proposed  to  let  them  keep  the  steers 
while  he  kept  his  scalp ;  a  sentiment  not  difficult  to 
understand  or  appreciate. 

They,  however,  saw  no  Indians  and  no  straggling 
steers  until  the  afternoon  had  worn  well  away,  and  they 
were  entering  the  foot  hills  which  led  up  to  the  mountains, 
when,  coming  up  over  a  ridge,  the  first  of  a  series  of 
ridges  or  long,  low  hills,  they  saw,  away  in  the  distance, 
the  herd  of  stolen  cattle,  followed  and  half  surrounded 


A  BOLD   MOVE.  97 

by  the  Indians,  who  were  urging  them  forward  as  rapidly 
as  their  now  tired  condition  would  permit. 

And  now  the  partners  determined  upon  a  bold  move. 
They  knew — or,  at  least,  they  thought  they  knew — that 
as  the  Indians  approached  the  mountains  they  would 
split  the  herd  into  three  or  four  branches,  and,  dividing 
their  own  forces,  take  different  routes  to  their  fastnesses, 
thus  confusing  their  pursuers,  or,  at  least,  compelling 
them  to  divide  their  forces  also,  and  so  make  almost 
certain  their  ability  to  escape  with  at  least  a  portion  of 
their  plunder.  Thus,  if  the  pursuit  grew  hot  on  one 
trail,  the  savages  could  abandon  that  portion  of  the  herd, 
and  having  divided  the  pursuing  force,  cross,  by  trails 
known  to  them,  to  some  other  point  and  join  their  com 
panions,  and  either  aid  them  in  overpowering  the  party 
in  pursuit  of  them,  or  hold  it  at  bay  while  the  others 
escaped  with  their  portion  of  the  drove. 

Anticipating  this  attempt  to  split  the  herd,  Sam  and 
Phil  resolved  to  make  a  bold  dash  at  the  right  moment 
and  endeavor  to  cut  off  a  portion  of  the  cattle,  and  so 
save  it  if  possible. 

To  do  this  it  was  essential  that  they  approach  very 
near  without  being  seen  by  the  Indians,  and  be  ready  to 
take  advantage  of  the  opportune  moment  when  the 
Indians  would  be  most  intently  occupied,  and  in  some 
confusion  from  their  own  efforts  to  divide  the  herd. 

Accordingly  they  made  a  detour  of  several  miles  to 


98  SUCCESSFUL  STRATAGEM. 

the  right,  following  such  a  course  as  best  served  to  con 
ceal  them  from  the  Indians,  and  in  the  dusk  of  early 
evening  came  upon  them  from  the  side  instead  of  in  the 
rear,  and  just  as,  by  riding  in  among  the  herd  and 
shouting  and  yelling,  the  savages  had  succeeded  in 
breaking  it  up  in  bunches  and  sent  the  steers  flying  in  a 
dozen  different  directions.  Fortune  favored  the  partners 
still  further,  for  the  largest  bunch — about  one  fourth  of 
the  herd — broke  in  their  direction,  followed  by  a  half 
dozen  of  the  savages  only,  the  others  being  engaged  in 
efforts  to  unite  the  smaller  bunches  and  start  them  in 
the  different  directions  they  were  desired  to  take. 

Weapons  in  hand,  the  two  men  sat  upon  their  ponies 
in  the  shadow  of  a  bunch  of  chaparral,  and  watched  the 
steers  rush  by  ;  held  their  breath  and  let  pass  the  un 
suspecting  savages  ;  fingered  the  locks  of  their  Winches 
ters,  and  waited  until  all  were  well  over  the  ridge,  and 
for  the  time  out  of  sight  of  their  companions,  and  then 
put  spurs  to  their  ponies  and  followed  after. 

If  the  Indians  saw,  they  mistook  them,  in  the 
gathering  darkness,  for  members  of  their  own  band,  and 
not  until  the  sharp  crack  of  rifles  sounded  the  knell  of 
two  of  their  number  did  they  realize  that  an  attack  upon 
them  was  being  made  ;  and  then,  not  understanding  the 
source  of  the  attack,  and  not  knowing  how  small  was 
the  attacking  party,  they  fled  precipitately  and  rejoined 
their  now  excited  and  demoralized  companions,  leaving 


RECAPTURED    STEERS.  99 

Sam  and  Phil  to  push  on  after  the  flying  cattle  and 
gradually  turn  them  in  the  direction  of  home,  without  so 
much  as  a  return  shot. 

Until  midnight  the  twa  jlen  kept  the  now  almost 
exhausted  steers  moving,  and  then  allowed  them  to  lie 
down  and  rest,  while  they  kept  watch. 

Rifles  in  hand  and  holding  the  ponies  by  the  bridles, 
they  stood  guard  until  the  morning,  but  nothing  of  a 
suspicious  character  occurred. 

When  daylight  came  they  made  a  short  scout,  to 
satisfy  themselves  that  no  Indians  were  in  the  immediate 
vicinity. 

Convinced  upon  this  point,  they  permitted  their 
ponies  to  feed  upon  the  grass,  while  they  themselves 
ate  a  breakfast  of  jerked  beef,  and  then  started  their 
little  herd  of  jaded  steers  once  more  toward  the  old 
range. 

It  was  not  their  intention,  however,  to  follow  them 
tar. 

Knowing  that  if  left  alone  they  would  not  wander  so 
far  but  that  they  could  be  readily  found,  and  that  in  all 
probability  they  would  strike  straight  back  for  their  old 
range,  and  believing  the  Indians  were  too  badly  beaten 
and  too  much  afraid  of  meeting  with  further  punishment 
to  return,  they  proposed  leaving  this  bunch  of  recaptured 
steers,  and  making  back  to  join  the  crowd  that,  gathered 


100  REINFORCEMENTS, 

from  neighboring  camps,  they  knew  well  was  hot  on  the 
trail  of  the  retreating  savages  ere  this. 

Accordingly  they  turned  back  along  the  way  they  had 
just  come,  and  about  noon  struck  the  trail  of  the  day 
before  in  the  vicinity  of  the  scrimmage  of  the  previous 
evening,  and  were  gratified  and  encouraged  by  evidences 
clear  to  the  eye  of  a  plainsman  that  a  party  of  at  least  a 
score  of  cowboys,  following  the  route  of  the  retreating 
Indians,  had  passed  the  spot  at  an  early  hour  of  the. 
morning. 

At  the  point  where  the  herd  had  been  divided  and 
at  which  they  had  made  their  successful  effort  to  re 
capture  a  portion  of  it,  they  made  a  careful  examination 
and  decided  that  the  Indians  had  divided  into  three 
bands  and  each  taking  a  portion  of  the  cattle  had  struck 
into  the  mountains  by  different  routes  and  that  their 
friends,  the  cowboys,  had  also  divided  and  were  in 
pursuit. 

Judging  from  such  indications  as  met  their  eyes  they 
decided  the  number  of  their  friends  to  be  twenty,  and 
that  about  an  equal  number,  that  is  six  or  seven,  had 
followed  each  of  the  trails  made  by  the  savages ;  and  as 
they  could  not  determine  which  would  be  most  likely  to 
be  nearest,  or  most  stand  in  need  of  their  assistance, 
they  concluded  to  follow  the  middle  trail,  thinking  it 
probable  that  the  other  two  trails  would  lead  into  this 
one  after  a  time,  and  if  not  that  they  stood  as  good  a 


BROWN   GROWS   BLOODTHIRSTY  IOI 

chance  of  making  themselves  useful  on  this  as  on  either 
of  the  others. 

"I  wish  we  may  get  the  whole  band  corraled  some 
where,"  remarked  Sam  as  they  rode  along  at  a  swinging 
gallop. 

There  was  little  danger  to  be  feared  in  the  rear  of 
the  party  which  had  gone  on  in  advance,  and  the  two 
rode  at  as  rapid  a  pace  as  they  felt  their  ponies  could 
stand,  and  without  taking  extra  precaution,  such  as 
avoiding  what  appeared  to  be  good  places  for  ambush, 
or  going  out  of  the  way  to  reconnoiter  the  trail  from 
each  eminence  which  they  came  to,  as  they  would  have 
done  if  in  advance  of  the  other  party  of  whites.  Riding 
so  they  felt  confident  of  overtaking  their  friends  by 
nightfall,  if  not  before,  and  hoped  to  get  up  in  time  to 
take  a  hand  in  any  fighting  which  might  take  place. 

'  'Wish  we  may  corral  the  whole  mendacious  lot  of 
'em,"  repeated  Sam  a  little  later  on.  "I'd  be  content 
to  lie  around  among  the  rocks  on  some  of  these  mountain 
sides  and  practice  target  shooting  for  a  whole  week  if 
only  the  targets  were  Apache  Indians." 

' 'It  appears  to  me, "  laughed  Phil  in  return,  "that 
for  a  fellow  who  less  than  two  years  ago  was  a  tenderfoot 
taking  his  first  lesson  in  riding  a  bucking  pony  you  are 
grown  mighty  bloodthirsty." 

Sam  looked  at  Jiis  partner  in  a  way  which  Phil  did 
not  fail  to  understand,  and  then  answered: 


IO2  AND   THEN   BECOMES   SENTIMENTAL. 

'  'You  and  the  rest  of  the  fellows  have  had  lots  of 
fun  over  that  little  accident,  and  I  know  it  was  funny, 
though  I  couldn't  well  be  expected  to  see  the  humorous 
side  of  it  myself.  Well,  you  are  welcome  to  joke  about 
it  as  much  as  you  like  ;  I  can  afford  to  let  you  do  it." 

' ' You're  mighty  right  you  can,  old  fellow,"  and  Phil, 
who  was  in  the  lead  a  few  paces,  held  his  pony  up  and 
reaching  back  grasped  Sam's  hand  and  wrung  it  hard 
and  long. 

'  The  boys  never  did  take  you  for  a  softy  exactly  ; 
you  know  that,  but  they  have  to  have  their  joke,  and 
you  were  the  last  to  pitch  camp  among  us.  Some  time 
the  time  may  come  when  I  can  show  you  how  much  I 
am  obliged  to  you  and  Peters  for  happening  to  be  at  the 
shanty  just  the  moment  you  were,  and  if  it  does  come 
I'll  try  and  make  my  feelings  plain  to  be  understood." 

"Oh  that's  all  right,  pard,  that's  all  right,"  an 
swered  Sam,  wringing  his  hand  in  return.  "I  didn't 
mind  it  much,  but  I'm  glad  that  I  didn't  flinch  when  the 
time  came  to  prove  what  stuff  I  was  made  of  ;  it  will 
make  the  loss  of  the  steers  come  easier  you  see.  But  I 
shouldn't  have  been  there  only  going  over  to  borrow 
some  coffee  of  Peters  I  met  Peters  coming  over  to  borrow 
some  coffee  of  us,  and  being  as  neither  of  us  had  any  we 
decided  to  ride  back  to  our  camp  for  dinner  and  then  go 
over  to  Simmons'  ranch  on  the  other  fork  and  get  some 
there ;  and  just  as  we  came  over  the  little  divide  on  the 


LUCKY — PETERS'  CAMP  BEING  OUT  OF  COFFBB.    103 

other  side  of  the  creek  we  saw  the  reds  coming  down 
towards  the  cabin  yelling  and  shooting  like  mad.  We 
couldn't  see  you  because  of  the  corral,  but  we  knew 
mighty  well  what  it  all  meant,  and  you  bet  we  made  our 
ponies  stretch  themselves. 

'  'We  kept  in  line  with  that  clump  of  cotton  woods 
until  we  reached  the  corral  and  then  we  were  hid  by  the 
shanty  itself,  and  I  reckon  the  reds  were  a  little  surprised 
at  our  being  there." 

"Sam,"  said  Phil,  "you're  a  trump." 

The  two  rode  on  in  silence  for  a  few  moments,  a 
silence  that  was  broken  by  Phil. 

"I'm  mighty  glad  Peters'  camp  was  out  of  coffee," 
he  said. 


CHAPTER  VII. 

FOLLOWING     THE    TRAIL — WATCHING     FOR     AN     OPPORTU 
NITY    TO    ATTACK   THE    INDIAN    CAMP. 

The  farther  the  trail  was  followed  the  rougher  and 
more  precipitous  it  became,  and  the  slower  the  progress 
made,  though  they  still  rode  principally  at  a  gallop. 
There  was  no  difficulty  in  following  the  trail,  as  now 
that  they  were  well  into  the  mountains  there  was  but 
one  way  that  a  bunch  of  steers  could  be  driven  with  any 
speed,  and  that  was  up  some  ravine,  or  along  some  bit 
of  table  land  hedged  in  by  cliffs  too  steep  and  rugged  to 
make  clambering  over  them  a  feasible  thing  ;  or  if  they 
came  to  a  little  valley  across  which  the  trail  led,  the 
lay  of  the  country  made  clear  to  practiced  eyes,  such  as 
Phil's  were,  the  point  at  which  the  trail  must  leave  it 
again,  and  thus  enabled  them  to  ride  forward  without 
paying  much  attention  to  the  signs  left  by  those  whom 
they  followed. 

They  knew  that  the  Indians  would  have  traveled  all 
(104) 


FOLLOWING  THE  TRAIL. 


EVIDENCES    OF   A    SKIRMISH.  10$ 

night — that  in  fact  they  would  stop  only  when  it  be 
came  impossible  to  keep  the  steers  from  lying  down 
from  exhaustion — and  they  did  not  expect  to  overtake 
either  them  or  the  other  pursuing  party  much,  if  any, 
before  night. 

About  noon  they  halted  for  the  purpose  of  giving 
their  ponies  a  rest  and  a  bite  of  grass,  and  each  in  turn 
threw  himself  upon  the  ground  and  slept  a  few  moments. 
Neither  had  slept  a  wink  the  night  before,  and  the  hard 
riding  and  loss  of  sleep  was  now  beginning  to  tell  on 
them,  and  would  have  done  so  sooner  but  for  their 
excitement  and  their  anxiety  to  get  on  as  fast  as  possible. 

Pushing  on  again  after  an  hour's  rest  they  came,  at 
about  three  o'clock,  to  a  spot  which  exhibited  indica 
tions  of  a  halt  on  the  part  of  the  party  which  preceded 
them,  and  closer  examination  convinced  them  both  that 
here  a  little  brush  between  their  friends  and  the  Indians, 
or  probably  a  few  of  the  Indian  scouts,  had  taken 
place. 

They  found  where,  in  a  ravine,  the  pursuing  party  had 
evidently  left  their  ponies  in  charge  of  one  of  their 
number  while  the  rest  either  reconnoitered  on  foot  or 
made  an  attempt  to  crawl  unperceived  upon  a  hidden 
foe  ;  and  in  another  place  saw  some  dried  blood,  but 
whether  the  blood  came  from  a  man  or  a  steer  they 
would  not  determine. 

Convinced,  however,  that  nothing  decisive  had  taken 


IO6  THE   TRAIL   BECOMES   HOT. 

place,  they  moved  forward  with  greater  caution,  the  way 
growing  rougher  and  rougher,  as  they  anticipated  it 
would  be. 

The  general  direction  of  the  trail  was  south.  The 
savages  were  evidently 'making  either  for  some  fastness 
which  they  regarded  as  inaccessible  to  their  pursuers,  or 
tvere  intending  to  keep  on  and,  crossing  the  mountains, 
pome  out  fifty  or  a  hundred  miles  below  Fort  Stanton, 
and  make  for  old  Mexico,  where  they  would  be  compara 
tively  safe  from  pursuit. 

Without  stopping  to  make  lengthy  investigations  the 
two  men  were  able  to  tell  where,  here  and  there,  a  steer 
had  made  an  attempt  to  leave  the  herd  and  been  driven 
back  by  the  watchful  savages,  and  once  they  found  the 
spot  where  a  steer  had  been  killed  and  dressed,  evidently 
for  the  purpose  of  providing  the  captors  with  food  and, 
in  consequence,  strength  for  other  raids. 

As  the  afternoon  passed,  too,  they  began  to  see 
evidences  that  they  were  gaining  on  those  in  advance, 
and  near  sundown  they  caught  sight  of  a  half  dozen  men 
riding  around  a  mountain  a  mile  or  more  in  advance, 
and  knew  them  to  be  their  friends. 

Halting  their  own  ponies,  they  watched  the  little 
party  in  advance  of  them  until  convinced  from  the 
exceeding  caution  with  which  they  were  evidently  moving 
that  they  believed  themselves  in  the  immediate  vicinity  of 
the  Indians,  and  then  hurried  forward  with  all  the  speed 


TRYING   TO  CONNECT  WITH   THEIR   FRIENDS.         1 07 

consistent  with  their  desire  to  keep  out  of  the  sight  of 
any  spies  which  the  Indians  might  have  out. 

If  possible  they  wished  to  join  their  friends  before 
night  set  in,  and  so  ascertain  what  plans,  if  any,  had 
been  decided  on  f of  the  attack,  and  also  to  be  there  to 
take  a  hand  in  it  if  an  attack  was  made. 

They  realized,  too,  that  if  they  failed  to  overtake 
and  make  themselves  known  to  their  friends  while  it  was 
still  light,  there  was  danger  of  each  party  mistaking  the 
other  for  Indians,  and  accordingly  they  pushed  forward 
with  all  the  speed  consistent  with  caution. 

But  darkness  comes  on  quickly  in  the  mountains 
after  the  sun  goes  down,  and  their  efforts  to  connect 
with  their  friends  before  night  came  upon  them  were 
unavailing. 

When  they  could  no  longer  see  to  ride  with  safety 
they  dismounted  at  the  edge  of  a  thick  patch  of  chaparral, 
and  leading  their  tired  ponies  into  it  tied  them  securely 
in  such  a  way  that  they  could  lie  down  if  they  chose, 
and  prepared  to  proceed  on  foot  and  endeavor  to  join 
their  friends. 

Before  starting  they  again  ate  heartily  of  dried  beef, 
as  even  in  times  of  danger  and  excitement  your  frontiers 
man  never  neglects  his  stomach  if  he  can  help  it,  and 
especially  is  he  careful  not  to  leave  his  base  of  supplies, 
even  if  that  base  is  only  a  small  package  tied  to  his 
saddle,  without  having  eaten,  if  hungry  ;  for  when  he 


IO8  NEARING    THE    INDIAN    CAMP. 

does  so  he  knows  not  whether  he  will  be  able  to  return 
to  it,  or,  if  so,  how  long  it  may  be  first  ;  and  it  is  a  poor 
generalship  to  start  on  an  expedition  with  an  empty 
stomach. 

When  necessity  compels,  a  cowboy  may  go  without 
his  food,  but  it  is  never  a  thing  of  his  own  choice. 

After  eating,  the  two  men  crept  cautiously  from  the 
bunch  of  chaparral  and  began  making  their  way  for 
ward. 

The  night  was  not  dark,  the  moon  being  in  its  second 
quarter  and  the  stars  shining  brightly. 

They  would  have  preferred  that  the  night  had  been 
less  bright,  as  with  the  moon  shining  they  were  much 
more  likely  to  be  discovered  by  the  guards  they  knew 
the  Indians  would  keep  out,  and  they  wished  to  avoid 
being  seen  at  least  until  they  could  ascertain  just  how 
things  were  and  get  into  communication  with  their 
friends. 

That  the  Indians  were  in  camp  within  a  mile  of  them, 
and  that  their  friends  were  in  hiding  somewhere  in  the 
vicinity,  they  felt  confident,  and  they  had  little  doubt 
that  an  opportunity  for  giving  the  Indians  battle  would 
be  found  or  made  before  the  sun  rose  again. 

Keeping  close  together,  they  worked  their  way  from 
point  to  point — now  crawling  on  hands  and  knees  to 
some  point  of  elevation  from  which  they  hoped  to  be 
able  to  discover  some  indication  of  either  friend  or  foe  ; 


WHERE    ARE    "THE    BOYS"? 

now  crouching  within  the  shadow  of  a  rock  or  bush,  and 
peering  around  for  sight  or  sign  ;  again  walking  rapidly 
but  with  guarded  footsteps  in  the  deepest  shade  cast  by 
an  overhanging  crag  ;  always  with  hands  on  their  weap 
ons  and  ready  for  whatever  might  come  ;  they  at  last 
reached  a  point  which  overlooked  a  little  valley  perhaps 
a  quarter  of  a  mile  wide,  hemmed  in  by  the  mountains 
on  three  sides. 

Looking  down  into  this  bit  of  an  oasis  they  could  see 
animals,  some  feeding  and  some  lying  down,  or  what 
appeared  to  be  such  ;  in  the  imperfect  light  and  at  the 
distance  from  which  they  were  it  was  not  very  easy  to 
distinguish  between  a  bunch  of  weeds  and  a  steer  or 
pony,  unless  by  seeing  it  move. 

For  some  moments  they  lay  flat  on  the  ground, 
watching  the  valley  below,  and  then  Phil  whispered  : 

"That's  them." 

"Where  do  you  s'pose  the  boys  are?"  asked  Sam 
after  a  moment  of  further  looking. 

"Don't  know  ;  not  far  off,  though." 

Again  they  remained  silent,  watching  for  anything 
which  might  occur  to  indicate  what  course  they  had  best 
pursue. 

"You  fellows  think  yourselves  mighty  sharp,  don't 
you,  now  ?  Reckon  you  were  just  planning  to  go  down 
and  take  that  there  camp  of  reds  without  any  ceremony!' 
came  a  voice,  in  a  guarded  tone  though  loud  enough  t< 


110  PETERS    HAS   HIS   LITTLE  JOKE 

be  heard  distinctly  by  them  ;  and,  glancing  up,  both 
men  saw  a  head  protruding  from  around  a  sage  bush  not 
more  than  ten  feet  away. 

For  a  space  of  time  sufficiently  long  to  be  noticeable 
neither  said  a  word  or  moved  more  than  a  muscle. 
Then  Phil  replied,  in  the  same  cautious  tone  : 

'  'I  reckon  you  have  the  joke  on  us,  Peters,  and  I 
suppose  the  only  way  to  keep  you  from  telling  it  to  the 
boys  and  so  get  them  to  deviling  us  about  it,  is  to  put  a 
bullet  through  you,  and  pretend  we  took  you  for  a  red. 

What  d'ye  say  ?" 

i 
Peters  snickered. 

'  'Wouldn't  do  it,  if  I  was  you  ;  you  need  me  to  help 
you  get  those  steers  of  yours  back. " 

" Where's  the  rest  of  the  boys  ?"   This  from  Brown. 

"'Round  to  the  right  there,  'bout  eighty  rods.  See 
that  big  rock  that  sticks  out  on  the  other  side  of  the 
canyon  ?  They  are  on  this  side  of  the  canyon  just, 
opposite  that." 

Neither  of  the  three  men  had  yet  moved  from  their 
positions  since  Peters  had  surprised  them  by  his  un 
expected  speech,  but  now  he  began  to  let  himself  cau 
tiously  down,  and  in  a  moment  was  at  their  side. 

"He,  he!"  he  snickered.  "You  fellows  are  fine 
Indian  trailers — let  a  man  come  onto  you  in  this 


AND   ENJOYS    IT   HUGELY.  Ill 

They  could  feel  that  he  was  shaking  with  laughter, 
but  neither  of  them  made  any  reply. 

4 'Well,  we  had  better  be  getting  back  to  the  boys," 
Peters  said  again. 

''All  right  ;  strike  out  and  we'll  follow." 

Neither  of  the  partners  was  deceived  by  Peters' 
manner  or  words  into  supposing  that  there  was  no  need 
of  caution,  nor  did  they  feel  annoyed  by  the  joke  he 
appeared  to  think  he  had  played  upon  them. 

Brown,  being  an  Eastern  man  up  to  two  years  be 
fore,  had  never  met  Peters  until  he  and  Johnson  had 
pitched  camp  and  located  their  present  range,  but 
Phil  and  Peters  had  trailed  Indians  together  three  years 
before,  and  had  herded  together  for  more  than  a  year, 
and  were  well  acquainted  and  quite  fond  of  each 
other. 

Peters  was  a  much  older  man  than  either  Brown  or 
Johnson,  and  had  led  a  rough  life  as  hunter  and  cow 
boy,  but  had,  so  he  declared,  been  able  to  keep  jolly 
a.11  the  same.  He  knew  less  of  Brown  than  of  Johnson, 
)ut  the  coolness  and  nerve  displayed  by  him  in  the 
fight  at  the  ranch  had  given  him  a  high  opinion  of  his 
courage  and  coolness,  the  very  qualities  which  he  knew 
Phil  to  possess  in  the  highest  degree  ;  and  it  was  be 
cause  of  this  belief  or  knowledge  that  he  had  dared  to 
venture  on  his  little  joke. 

He  had  been  delegated  by  the  little  band  of  six  m«nr 


112  SAM   AND   PHIL   JOIN   THEIR   COMPANIONS. 

of  whom  he  was  the  most  experienced  in  Indian  fighting, 
to  scout  about  a  little  and  learn  just  what  the  outlook 
for  a  successful  attack  on  the  camp  was  ;  and  it  was 
while  doing  so  that  he  had  chanced  to  catch  a  glimpse 
of  Sam  and  Phil  as  they  crawled  carefully  around  a 
hummock  where  for  an  instant  they  were  not  in  the 
shadow.  Recognizing  them  at  once,  he  had  remained 
concealed  behind^  the  bush  toward  which  they  were 
making  and  within  a  few  feet  of  which  they  took  up 
their  new  post  of  observation. 

It  was  when  he  saw  them  do  this  that  the  spirit  of 
fun  took  possession  of  and  prompted  him  to  make  his 
presence  known  in  the  manner  stated. 

Crawling  on  their  bellies  until  out  of  danger  of  being 
seen  from  the  Indian  camp,  the  three  men  slowly  raised 
to  their  feet  and  cautiously  made  their  way  from  shadow 
to  shadow  and  from  point  to  point,  until  they  reached 
the  place  where  the  others  were  waiting. 

As  was  natural,  this  little  company  were  greatly 
rejoiced  at  the  addition  to  their  numbers  of  Brown  and 
Johnson. 

Peters  explained  to  them  what  he  had  discovered  on 
the  scout  which  he  had  made. 

The  Indians,  he  told  them,  were  camped  in  the  valley 
below,  and  were  resting  both  the  cattle  and  their  ponies, 
and  that  besides  guards  on  watch  about  the  cattle,  their 
scouts  were  posted  at  points  which  he  indicated  outside 


THE  INDIANS   IN  CAMP.  II J 

the  valley,  where  they  would  be  best  able  to  detect  the 
approach  of -an  attacking  party. 

The  question  of  what  course  to  pursue  under  the 
circumstances  was  now  discussed. 

To  return  without  making  an  attempt  to  recover  the 
cattle  and  punish  the  thieves  was  not  to  be  thought 
of,  but  at  the  same  time  the  risk  of  making  a  night 
attack  was  very  great,  owing  to  the  position  of  the 
Indian  camp,  and  to  the  fact  that  the  Indians  were 
well  aware  of  the  presence  of  their  pursuers  in  the 
neighborhood,  their  scouts  having  discovered  and  ex 
changed  shots  with  them  early  in  the  day  at  the  point 
where  Phil  and  Sam  had  noticed  the  blood  drops  as 
already  noted. 

The  blood  in  question  was  supposed  to  have  come 
from  a  pony  wounded  by  a  shot  from  one  of  the  party 
of  whites,  and  not  from  a  person,  as  none  were  be 
lieved  to  be  hit. 

It  was  finally  decided  not  to  risk  a  night  attack, 
but  instead  to  follow  on  after  the  Indians  and  watch 
for  a  chance  to  get  back  the  cattle  without  running 
too  great  a  risk  of  losing  their  lives  in  the  operation, 
and  to  wait  until  that  chance  appeared,  no  matter 
whether  they  followed  them  one  day  or  six. 

That  the  chance  would  corne  all  believed,  and  all 
were  agreed  to  wait  for  it. 

The  little  company  of  men  now  divided  themselves 


114  A  COMMOTION  IN   CAMP. 

into  two  watches  of  four  each,  one  half  to  watch  while 
the  other  slept. 

As  Phil  and  Brown  had  no  rest  the  night  before, 
they  were  given  the  opportunity  with  two  other  men 
to  go  to  sleep  at  once,  and  proceeded  to  stretch  them 
selves  out  upon  the  ground  without  comment  or  delay, 
when  a  commotion  of  some  kind  in  the  Indian  camp 
below  was  heard,  and  at  once  all  thought  of  sleep  van 
ished  and  every  man  listened  and  peered  with  all 
his  might  in  an  effort  to  ascertain  the  meaning 
of  it. 

Phil  and  Peters  left  the  others  and  crawled  away 
in  the  darkness.  Those  who  remained  lay  perfectly 
still,  but  with  every  faculty  alert  and  ready  for  attack 
or  defense. 

The  commotion  in  the  camp  below  continued  for 
half  an  hour  and  then  everything  became  quiet  again, 
and  in  another  hour  Phil  and  Peters  returned  and  re 
ported  that  the  band  which  they  had  been  following  all 
day  had  been  joined  by  another  band  with  other  cattle  ; 
but  whether  the  last  comers  were  a  portion  of  those 
who  had  raided  the  Brown-Johnson  ranch  or  not,  they 
could  not  tell.  They  thought  not,  however,  and  were 
of  the  opinion  that  the  raid  had  been  more  general  than 
was  at  first  supposed,  and  that  these  last  comers  were 
a  band  who  had  been  on  a  raid  further  up,  and  that  this 
was  in  all  probability  the  meeting  point  for  all  engaged 


ALL  QUIBT  AGAIN. 

in  the  raid,  and  that  they  might  expect  other  bands  to 
come  in  at  any  time. 

Again  Phil  and  three  of  the  others  threw  themselves 
upon  the  ground  and  in  a  few  moments  were  fast  asleep. 
The  rest  kept  watch  and  guard.  Two  only  of  the  four 
sleepers  were  awakened  after  a  couple  of  hours  and  took 
the  place  of  two  who  had  stood  guard  until  that  time. 
Knowing  how  greatly  exhausted  Phil  and  his  partner 
must  be,  they  were  allowed  to  sleep  undisturbed  until 
events  in  the  early  morning  light  began  to  occur  in  the 
camp  below,  which  required  the  consideration  of  every 
member  of  the  little  band  of  cowboys  hidden  in  the 
chaparral  on  the  mountain  side. 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

THE     CLOUD     BURST,     AND     THE     FIGHT    IN    THE    INDIAN 

CAMP. 

The  matters  transpiring  in  the  Indian  camp  and 
which  were  of  such  interest  to  the  little  party  concealed 
in  the  chaparral  above  were  neither  more  nor  less  than 
the  arrival  of  first  one  and  then  another  band  of  Indians 
with  live  stock. 

First  came  about  one  hundred  head  of  the  Brown- 
Johnson  herd  driven  by  a  dozen  or  fifteen  Indians,  and 
before  the  yells  with  which  their  coming  was  greeted 
had  ceased  there  appeared  at  the  lower  end  of  the  little 
valley  still  another  and  larger  band  with  a  larger  bunch  of 
cattle.  These  last  were  evidently  stolen  from  a  ranch 
in  the  mountains  close  by,  and  had  not  been  driven  so 
far  or  so  hard  as  the  others,  as  they  were  still  apparently 
a  good  deal  of  trouble  to  manage  and  made  frequent 
dashes  for  liberty. 


Anton  Scenrr. 


BROWN'S  WISH  LIKELY  TO  BE  GRATIFIED.        117 

There  must  have  been  at  least  three  hundred  steers 
in  this  bunch,  and  not  less  than  fifty  Indians  in  the  band 
which  brought  them  in. 

The  whole  number  of  Indians  already  assembled 
were  considerably  more  than  a  hundred,  and  it  was 
probable  that  more  might  be  expected  at  any  moment. 
So  far  this  was  entirely  satisfactory  to  the  watchers 
from  the  chaparral.  Nothing  would  have  pleased  them 
so  well  as  to  get  the  whole  Apache  tribe  corraled  in 
that  little  valley  and  wipe  them  all  out  at  once.  It 
Was  beginning  to  look  as  if  Brown's  wish  that  he  might 
be  furnished  Apaches  for  target  practice  for  the  next 
week  was  to  be  gratified. 

Of  course  the  little  party  knew  that  behind  every 
bunch  of  stolen  stock  would  follow,  sooner  or  later,  a 
rescue  party,  and  if  the  Indians  were  only  foolish  enough 
to  remain  where  they  were  it  would  not  be  twenty-four 
hours  before  they  would  be  surrounded  by  a  sufficient 
force  of  cowboys  to  make  the  recapture  of  the  cattle — 
if  not  the  destruction  of  the  entire  band  of  savages — a 
certain  thing. 

The  little  party  of  whites  therefore  watched  with 
interest  quite  as  intense  as  that  of  the  savages,  and  were 
nearly  as  ready  to  greet  with  cheers  the  arrival  of  any 
number  of  additional  bands. 

No  others  came,  however,  and  very  soon  it  was 
apparent  that  those  already  there  were  getting  ready  to 


1 1 8  WHAT    IS   TO    BE   DONE  ? 

move  on,  as  they  could  be  seen  catching  their  ponies 
and  galloping  about  gathering  ^.11  the  cattle  into  one 
bunch  preparatory  to  taking  them  out  of  the  valley. 

Phil  and  Sam  especially  regretted  this. 

They  would  like  to  have  seen  all  their  steers  that 
were  in  the  hands  of  the  Indians  in  one  bunch  so  that 
they  could  the  better  judge  of  the  chances  for  getting 
them  back.  However,  they  could  do  nothing  in  the  mat 
ter,  could  not  even  make  an  immediate  attempt  at  re 
taking  those  in  sight  and  almost  under  their  noses  ;  for 
it  would  be  folly  for  eight  men  to  attack  one  hundred 
and  fifty  savages  almost  as  well  armed  as  themselves. 

The  result  that  would  follow  such  a  course  would  be 
that  a  part  of  the  savages  would  engage  them  while  the 
rest  made  off  with  the  stock  ;  and  that  when  they  were 
safely  off  with  the  cattle  the  others  would  slip  away  one 
at  a  time  and  rejoin  them,  without  perhaps  the  loss  of  a 
man  or  a  steer,  leaving  the  whites  in  ignorance  of 
whether  an  Indian  was  hidden  behind  each  bush  and 
rock  in  front  of  them  or  not. 

Evidently  the  thing  to  do  under  the  circumstances 
was  to  scout  around  and  try  and  make  connections  with 
any  other  companies  of  whites  which  might  be  following 
on  the  trail  of  the  marauders,  and  when  the  force  so 
gathered  together  became  sufficiently  large  attack  openly 
or  make  a  dash  and  endeavor  to  recapture  the  cattle  and 
escape  with  them. 


A  SKIRMISH   WITH   APACHE   SCOUTS.  1/9 

Accordingly  the  little  party  remained  in  their  con 
cealment  until  the  Indians  had  begun  to  move  out  of 
the  valley  with  their  stolen  stock  and  then  prepared  to 
follow. 

Emerging  from  the  sheltering  chaparral,  they  were 
about  to  remount  their  ponies  when  they  were  greeted 
with  a  shower  of  bullets  fired  at  long  range  and  perceived 
at  once  that  their  presence  was  known  to  the  Indians 
and  that  they  were  in  for  a  running  fight ;  that  is,  that 
a  part  of  the  Indians  would  ambush  them  at  every 
opportunity  and  endeavor  to  delay  and  hold  them  in 
check  while  the  others  continued  their  flight  with  the 
cattle. 

This  was  by  no  means  a  pleasant  predicament,  but 
there  was  no  way  of  getting  out  of  it  and  they  must  do 
the  best  they  could.  Returning  the  ponies  to  the 
chaparral  and  leaving  two  of  their  number  to  guard 
them,  the  others  crawled  out  of  the  bush  upon  their 
hands  and  knees  and  by  different  ways  and  began  feeling 
for  the  savages. 

By  one  device  and  another  such  as  raising  a  hat  on  a 
ramrod  and  thrusting  some  portion  of  their  clothing  into 
view  from  around  a  rock,  they  succeeded  in  drawing  the 
fire  first  of  one  and  then  another  of  the  enemies,  thus 
learning  their  exact  hiding  places,  and  occasionally  get 
ting  in  a  return  shot,  though  without  being  able  to  note 
the  effect. 


I2O  THE  MUSIC  A  WINCHESTER   MAKES. 

But  this  kind  of  fighting  was  by  no  means  pleasing 
to  the  little  party  of  cowboys,  who  were  really  quite  as 
much  interested  in  recapturing  the  stock  as  in  punishing 
the  thieves,  and  it  chafed  them  greatly  to  be  thus 
held  at  bay  by  a  few  reds  while  the  stock  was  being 
driven  beyond  their  reach,  and  they  were  meditating  a 
dash  for  the  purpose  of  dislodging  the  Indians,  when 
the  sound  of  other  shots  was  heard,  to  which  came  an 
swering  shots  from  what  appeared  to  be  a  half  mile  away, 
and  to  the  left  of  where  they  were  lying. 

' 'That's  the  Wilson  crowd,  I  reckon." 

It  was  Peters  who  spoke,  and  by  "the  Wilson  crowd'' 
he  meant  another  of  the  little  parties  which  had  followed 
a  portion  of  Phil's  and  Sam's  herd  when  the  party  had 
divided  at  the  foot  of  the  range  and  followed  different 
divisions  of  the  band  that  had  stolen  the  sleek,  tooth- 
tempting  steers. 

"I  supposed  they  were  somewhere  in  the  vicinity," 
returned  Phil.  "Have  been  listening  to  hear  the  music 
of  their  Winchesters  for  an  hour.  I  reckon  we  can 
crawl  forward  a  little.  These  fellows  in  front  have  got 
onto  the  fact  of  their  coming  and  have  begun  to  light 
out." 

While  speaking,  Phil  had  left  the  shelter  of  the  rock 
behind  which  he  was  hiding  and  was  making  for  another 
one  some  rods  in  advance  when,  with  startling  sudden 
ness,  '  'crack"  came  the  report  of  a  rifle  and  "zip"  went  a 


PETERS   ATTEMPTS   A   PUN.  121 

bullet  close  to  his  ear,  causing  him  to  drop  instantly, 
and  proceed  to  crawl  instead  of  running  to  shelter. 

''That  Apache'll  put  your  light  out  ef  you  ain't  more 
keerful,"  snickered  Peters  ;  though  whether  he  laughed 
at  his  own  attempted  pun  or  at  the  rapidity  with  which 
Phil  changed  his  tactics  one  could  not  have  told.  Prob 
ably  it  was  both,  though  he  may  not  have  known  that 
he  had  been  guilty  of  punning,  in  which  case  the  reader 
will  doubtless  forgive  him  his  offense. 

Although  Phil  had  come  near  paying  with  his  life 
for  his  hardiness  in  taking  too  much  for  granted,  yet  the 
little  company  one  by  one  followed  his  example,  fully 
convinced  that  the  Indians  in  front  of  them  had  retreated, 
or  would  do  so  speedily,  to  avoid  being  caught  between 
two  fires  ;  and  this  surmise  was  soon  proven  correct. 

No  more  shots  came;  and  it  was  soon  evident  that  the 
one  who  had  fired  at  Phil  was  the  last  savage  to  retreat, 
and  probably  got  in  this  shot  just  as  he  was  on  the  point 
of  doing  so. 

Neither  were  any  other  shots  heard  from  the  left, 
but  a  cautiously  conducted  scout  in  that  direction  dis 
covered  Wilson's  crowd  of  six  cowboys  concealed  be 
hind  as  many  different  boulders,  watching  intently  for 
the  sight  of  an  Indian  along  the  line  of  retreat  taken  by 
the  band. 

None  appeared,  however  ;  even  those  left  behind  had 
slipped  away  and  were  following  on  after  their  com- 


122  KEEPING   THE   TRAIL. 

panions,  and  watching  to  prevent  any  company  of  possible 
pursuers  from  getting  in  between  themselves  and  those 
in  charge  of  the  stolen  cattle. 

Communication  was  soon  established  between  the 
two  bodies  of  whites,  and  as  soon  as  it  was  ascertained 
that  the  Indians  had  fled  they  came  together,  and  after 
a  few  minutes'  consultation  returned  for  their  ponies, 
which  had  been  left  behind  when  the  skirmish  with  the 
Indians  began,  and  together  rode  on  after  the  retreating 
band. 

All  day  they  pursued,  and  every  few  hours  they  were 
greeted  with  the  sound  of  rifle  shots  and  whistling  of 
bullets,  though  it  was  but  seldom  that  one  came  very 
close  to  any  of  the  party. 

These  Indian  scouts  were  too  much  afraid  of  a  close 
fight  to  even  attempt  an  actual  ambuscade,  and  contented 
themselves  with  firing  occasional  shots  from  long  range — 
more,  apparently,  for  the  purpose  01  hindering  the 
pursuing  party  by  compelling  them  to  proceed  with 
caution  than  from  any  expectation  of  doing  them  injury. 
On  this  point  the  pursuers  were  the  better  content  to 
submit  to  the  harrowing  delay  from  the  expectations 
which  they  entertained  of  being  joined  by  others  from 
the  vicinity  of  the  ranches  that  had  been  raided  in  the 
valley  above,  as  also  by  those  of  their  own  party  which 
had  branched  off  in  pursuit  of  one  of  the  parties  into 
which  the  band  had  split  up  on  entering  the  mountains. 


A  CHANGE  IN   TACTICS.  12$ 

As  night  approached  there  arose  the  necessity  of 
guarding  against  an  attack  in  the  darkness.  The  In 
dians  having  kept  close  watch  of  their  movements  during 
the  day,  might  be  inclined  to  make  a  night  attack  on 
them,  thus  turning  the  tables  completely,  and  if  success 
ful,  relieve  themselves  of  further  pursuit. 

Taking  this  view  of  the  situation,  it  was  decided  best 
not  to  follow  too  closely  the  retreating  savages,  and 
about  the  middle  of  the  afternoon  the  party  went  into 
camp  upon  a  bit  of  a  plateau,  which  offered  fair  crop 
ping  for  the  ponies  and  at  the  same  time  afforded  no 
very  good  opportunity  for  an  enemy  to  approach  them 
unperceived. 

Here  they  waited  until  the  afternoon  was  well  spent, 
but  were  not  joined  by  any  other  party  of  pursuers,  and 
were  forced  to  the  conclusion  that  either  none  were  to 
follow,  or,  if  following,  that  they  were  long  in  getting 
started,  and  might  not  arrive  in  time  to  join  in  an  im 
mediate  attack  on  the  Indians.  After  much  consultation 
it  was  decided,  on  the  advice  of  Phil  and  Peters,  to 
change  the  tactics. 

Accordingly,  a  half  hour  before  sundown,  the  whole 
party  remounted  and  started  back  over  the  trail  they 
had  just  come,  as  if  having  given  up  the  pursuit.  As 
soon  as  it  became  dark,  however,  twelve  of  the  fourteen 
men  dismounted,  and  taking  with  them  only  their  arms 
and  a  blanket  apiece,  leit  th  other  two  to  make  their  way 


124  A  NIGHT'S  TRAMP  ACROSS  COUNTRY. 

back  to  the  settlement  with  the  ponies,  while  the  twelve 
struck  off  into  the  mountains  and  traveled  all  night  on 
foot,  in  an  effort  to  get  in  front  of  the  entire  band  of 
Indians  and  be  prepared  to  take  advantage  of  such 
circumstances  and  conditions  as  might  arise. 

None  of  the  party  knew  anything  of  the  country  they 
were  traveling  over  further  than  its  general  trend,  and 
something  of  the  location  of  the  different  passes  over 
the  highest  mountains,  and  the  settlements  on  either 
side  of  the  range,  but  this  was  sufficient  to  indicate  to 
them  the  route  which  the  Indians  would  be  compelled 
to  follow,  and  they  felt  confident  of  their  ability  to  out- 
travel  them  and  get  to  the  front  before  they  should  have 
Advanced  far  on  the  following  day. 

The  lay  of  the  country,  not  less  than  the  desire  to 
avoid  being  observed  by  any  of  the  scouts  which  the 
Indians  would  certainly  have  out  on  all  sides,  compelled 
a  wide  detour,  and  a  long,  hard  scramble  over  ravines 
and  mountains,  but  all  were  used  to  hardship,  and  all 
stood  the  night's  tramp  without  breaking  down,  though 
no  one  among  them  all  but  was  badly  stove  up  and 
greatly  wearied  when  morning  came. 

With  daylight  the  men  halted,  and  after  putting  two 
of  their  number  on  guard,  the  rest  lay  down  and  slept. 
They  were  confident  of  being  in  advance  of  the  Indians, 
and  believed  that  all  they  could  now  do  was  to  watch 
that  they  did  not  pass  them  unobserved.  Therefore, 


THE  INDIANS  STILL  HOLD  TO  THE  CATTLE.         12$ 

while  two  watched  the  rest  slept,  and  about  ten  o'clock 
the  vigil  of  the  watchers  was  rewarded  by  sight  of  an 
Indian  scout,  evidently  in  advance  of  the  main  body  and 
about  a  half  mile  away. 

A  little  later  ^a  small  body  of  Indians,  mounted  on 
ponies,  passed  the  same  point,  and  behind  them  a 
quarter  of  a  mile  or  so  came  the  stolen  cattle,  ac 
companied  by  the  main  body  of  the  savages.  They  were 
moving  with  caution,  but  with  some  leisure  as  compared 
to  the  day  before,  which  caused  the  cowboys,  who  were 
watching  them,  to  hope  their  scouts  had  reported  that 
the  pursuit  had  been  abandoned. 

After  resting,  the  little  company  of  cowboys  again 
took  up  the  trail. 

Keeping  outside  of  the  limits  which  the  Indian  scouts 
would  be  likely  to  prescribe  for  themselves,  in  watching 
for  possible  or  probable  pursuers,  they  kept  on  at  a  pace 
which  they  believed  would  bring  them  up  even  with  or  a 
little  ahead  of  the  Indians  by  nightfall. 

Their  plan  now  was  to  keep  as  near  the  main  body 
of  Indians  as  possible  and  at  the  first  opportunity  make 
a  night  attack  and  endeavor  to  get  off  with  a  portion  of, 
or  if  possible  all,  the  ponies  and  cattle  now  in  possession 
of  the  savages. 

When  night  had  fairly  shut  down  Peters  and  Johnson 
went  again  upon  a  scout  and  found  the  Indians  in  camp 
in  a  deep  gorge,  inaccessible  except  from  one  point,  and 


126  ON  THE   SCOUT. 

that  strongly  guarded.  They  therefore  returned  to  their 
companions  and  reported  that  it  would  be  unwise  to  at 
tempt  anything  that  night,  and  that  they  had  better 
move  on  in  advance  of  he  Indians  again  und  wait  the 
coming  of  another  night. 

It  was  already  past  midnight  and  the  party  at  once 
moved  forward,  traveling  until  noon  the  next  day,  hav 
ing  stopped  only  once  and  then  only  for  an  hour,  to 
cook  and  eat  a  meal  from  the  carcass  of  a  deer  whbh 
one  of  the  party  had  shot  This  was  the  first  fire  that 
had  been  built  by  ^ny  f  the  party  since  the  pursuit  began, 
and  only  the  necessity  ol  choosing  between  doing  so  and 
eating  raw  meat  inauced  h  m  to  build  it  now,  though 
there  was  no  &r  a*;  danger  t  Le  feared  therefrom,  as 
they  were  careful  nol  to  permit  a  column  of  smoke  to 
rise  from  it. 

Having  roasted  meat  enough  to  last  th:m  the  day 
Out,  they  pushed  ahead,  and  when  the  gain  stopped  it 
was  at  a  point  wher*  thev  feL  hat  an  atte:  ipt  to  recover 
the  stolen  cattle  must  b  made  if  it  wa  to  be  made  at 
all,  and  they  had  no  intention  of  abandoning  the  pursuit 
without  making  one. 

The  spot  in  question  was  a  point  where  three  gulches 
or  canyons  converged,  leaving  a  small  strip  of  compara 
tively  level  ground  in  the  center  and  between  them,  and 
through  which  flowed  a  stream  of  water  that  during 
heavy  rain  storms  and  for  a  few  days  or  hours  only, 


DECIDING   TO  ATTACK.  I2/ 

must  have  been  very  large,  as  it  caught  the  flow  from 
the  sides  of  three  eminences,  either  of  which  would  send 
down  a  considerable  body  of  water  at  such  times. 

This  stream  was  now  dried  to  a  tiny  rivulet,  fed  by 
a  spring  somewhere  farther  up  in  the  mountains,  but  it 
was  sufficient  to  supply  water  for  the  herd  which  the 
Indians  were  driving,  while  upon  the  ground,  back  a 
little  on  either  side,  was  as  good  a  growth  of  grass  as 
was  likely  to  be  found  at  this  elevation,  and  the  neces 
sity  of  allowing  both  the  ponies  and  the  stolen  cattle  an 
opportunity  of  getting  a  bite  of  feed  would  almost  com 
pel  the  camping  of  the  whole  herd  at  this  point  for  at 
least  a  portion  of  the  night. 

After  examining  this  bit  of  ground  and  the  canyons 
converging  to  it  as  carefully  as  possible,  without  leaving 
too  many  signs  of  having  been  there,  the  little  party  of 
white  men  retired  a  distance  up  the  mountain  and  con 
cealed  themselves  to  await  the  coming  of  the  night  and 
the  Indians. 

The  two  came  together.  It  was  the  last  of  the  sun's 
golden  arrows,  shot  down  the  gorge  from  behind  the 
mountain  top,  which  showed  to  the  men  in  hiding  the  head 
of  the  drove  coming  out  into  the  open  space  from  the 
lower  side  ;  and  before  the  last  steer — followed  by  a 
straggling  line  of  ponies,  each  bearing  his  Indian  master 
— had  quenched  his  thirst  at  the  little  stream  and  begun 
to  feed  upon  the  grass  on  its  banks,  it  was  too  dark  to 


128  DECIDING  TO  ATTACK. 

make  it  at  all  probable  that  the  signs  left  by  the  white 
men  would  be  observed  by  the  enemy. 

The  Indians  appeared  to  be  less  fearful  of  attack 
than  on  the  night  previous,  and  had  probably  come 
to  the  conclusion  that  their  pursuers  had  dropped  off 
and  abandoned  the  chase.  More  than  one  attempt 
of  cattle  men  and  settlers  to  follow  the  Apaches  to 
their  fortresses  and  recover  their  property  had  been 
abandoned,  and  this  favor  doubtless  gave  the  rascals 
faith  to  believe  that  the  present  case  would  not 
prove  an  exception  to  their  past  experience,  and  had 
helped  to  make  them  a  trifle  less  watchful  than  they  would 
have  been. 

They  were  not  without  caution,  however,  for  they 
built  no  fires,  but  contented  themselves  with  eating  raw 
steak  from  a  steer  which  they  had  killed  just  before 
going  into  camp.  The  only  preparation  give  it,  to  make 
it  more  fitting  food,  was  to  press  the  blood  out  of  it  be 
tween  two  flat  stones. 

They  also  put  out  guards,  both  within  the  level 
ground  and  upon  the  heights  above,  and  at  the  mouths 
of  each  of  the  three  canyons,  so  that  the  chances  of 
surprising  them  or  getting  off  with  the  herd,  or  any 
portion  of  it,  were  made  extremely  difficult,  if  not  im 
possible. 

All  this  the  white  men  learned  partly  from  observing 
the  movements  of  the  Indians,  and  in  part,  perhaps,  by 


PLANNING    THE   ATTACK.  f>  Q 

intuition  or  something  approaching  it.  At  any  rate,  they 
felt  that  every  precaution  against  surprise  had  been  taken 
by  their  enemies,  and  yet  they  were  determined  to  make 
an  attempt  that  night  to  surprise  them  and  get  back  the 
cattle,  Brown  declaring  that  it  was  just  a  little  more 
than  a  man  could  stand  to  see  his  cattle  rounded  up 
every  night  by  a  pack  of  thieves,  and  he  was  for 
making  the  attempt  to  get  them  back  and  take  his 
chances  on  what  might  come  of  it. 

Phil  felt  about  the  same  way.  This  raid,  if  it 
resulted  in  the  loss  of  so  many  of  their  cattle,  knocked 
the  life  out  of  the  plans  he  was  building  again  with 
regard  to  that  million  of  dollars,  and  he  was  ready  to 
run  any  risk  rather  than  let  the  cattle  go. 

Accordingly  when  the  night  was  about  half  gone, 
the  men  left  their  hiding  place,  moving  with  more 
caution  than  they  had  done  at  any  time  since  the  chase 
began. 

Making  their  way  down  the  canyon,  to  within  a 
short  distance  of  its  mouth,  the  little  company  divided 
into  two  parts,  one  of  which,  under  the  command  of 
Brown,  was  to  remain  where  it  was  for  the  present, 
while  the  other  part,  under  the  guide  of  Phil  and 
Peters,  was  to  get  by  the  guard  in  some  way,  steal  in 
among  the  ponies  feeding  below,  cut  their  hopples  and 
stampede  as  many  of  them  as  possible.  This  as  a  first 


130  CAREFUL  NOW. 

step  ;  further  action  to  depend  upon  the  success  or  failure 
of  this  attempt. 

Brown  and  his  companions  were  to  act  at  such  time 
and  in  such  manner  as  would  best  aid  the  stampeding 
party  when  the  trouble  should  begin. 

Phil  and  Peters  led  their  party  carefully  down  the 
canyon  and  then  left  them,  and  together  crawled  away 
in  the  thick  darkness.  I  say  ''thick  darkness"  for  it  is 
always  thick  darkness  in  a  canyon  in  the  night,  unless 
the  moon  is  shining  squarely  into  it,  and  these  men  had 
been  careful  to  select  for  their  hiding  that  one  of  the 
three  canyons  leading  into  the  open  space  into  which 
the  moon  would  penetrate  the  least  at  midnight ;  hence 
it  would  have  been  but  little  darker  if  there  had  been 
no  moon  at  all. 

The  two  men  were  gone  a  full  half  hour,  and  their 
companions,  to  whom  it  seemed  much  longer,  were 
becoming  uneasy,  when  suddenly  there  came  a  clap  of 
thunder  whose  echoes,  chasing  each  other  from  peak 
to  peak,  gave  the  impression  of  a  field  battery  having 
been  discharged.  This  was  followed  by  other  peals 
less  sharp,  but  no  less  distinct,  all  giving  indication  of 
an  approaching  storm. 

Immediately  evidence  of  a  commotion  in  the  camp 
at  the  mouth  of  the  canyon  was  distinguishable.  It 
was  apparent  that  the  Indians  were  up  and  moving  to 
get  out  of  the  way  of  the  torrent,  which  would  soon 


A  COMMOTION  IN  THE   INDIAN  CAMP.  13 1 

begin  to  pour  through  the  open  space  from  the  three 
separate  gulches. 

An  instant  later  Peters  returned  to  the  little 
group  of  waiting  men  and  whispered  to  them  to  fol 
low  him.  At  the  mouth  of  the  canyon  Phil  joined 
them. 

Had  the  lightning  illumined  their  surroundings  again 
at  that  moment  it  might  have  disclosed  to  their  eyes  the 
dead  form  of  an  Indian  guard  lying  almost  at  their  feet ; 
but  it  did  not  and  they  passed  hurriedly  on  in  the  wake 
of  their  leaders. 

Already  the  rain  was  beginning  to  fall. 

Guided  by  the  commotion  now  plainly  to  be  heard 
in  front  of  them  they  hurried  forward. 

The  Indians  well  understood  the  necessity  of  getting 
out  of  there  and  upon  higher  ground  before  the  water 
came  rushing  down  upon  them,  and  they  were 
whooping  and  yelling  at  the  cattle,  which  were  them 
selves  becoming  frightened  and  endeavoring  to  stam 
pede. 

The  savages  had  secured  a  portion  of  the  ponies, 
and  in  the  intense  darkness  it  was  difficult  for  either  the 
whites  or  the  Indians  themselves  to  find  the  others.  In 
their  search  for  them  the  little  party  of  white  men  were 
repeatedly  aware  of  the  presence  of  Indians  within  a 
few  feet  of  them,  and  once  Peters  brushed  against  one 


132  THE   COMMOTION   INCREASES, 

of  their  number,  who  in  the  darkness  must  have  mis 
taken  him  for  one  of  the  band,  for  he  gave  utterance  to 
something  in  his  native  tongue,  of  which  Peters  under 
stood  only  enough  to  know  that  it  was  not  a  warwhoop, 
and  that  therefore  the  presence  of  whites  in  the  camp 
had  not  been  discovered. 

But  he  had  short  space  of  time  in  which  to  con 
gratulate  himself  on  this  fact. 

First  came  a  flash  of  lightning  that  lit  up  the 
mountains  and  made  every  bush  and  rock  upon  their 
rugged  sides  stand  out  as  clear  and  sharp  as  if  reflected 
in  a  glass  ;  which  showed  every  nook  and  cranny  of  the 
mighty  canyon  leading  up  and  up  toward  the  clouds  and 
the  mountain  tops  ;  which  disclosed  alike  to  whites  and 
Indians  the  presence  and  position  of  their  foes,  and 
caused  each  to  stand  for  a  second  dazed  in  the  glare  of 
light  and  the  surprise  of  finding  himself  face  to  face  with 
a  mortal  enemy. 

Then  darkness  black,  intense.  Then  the  whole 
heavens  rolled  together  with  one  mighty  thunder  peal, 
and  breaking  through  this  the  war  cry  of  two  hundred 
savage  throats,  the  beating  of  hoofs,  the  bellow  of 
stampeding  cattle,  the  snorting  of  frightened  horses ; 
and  mingling  with  it  and  making  itself  felt  rather  than 
heard,  the  rush  and  roar  of  angry  waters  as  the  floods, 
released  by  the  cloud  burst  upon  the  mountain  tops, 
came  seething  and  boiling  down  the  canyons  on  either 


A  CLOUD  BURST   -FIGHTING  IN  THE  DARKNESS.        I3J 

hand  ;  and  through  ajl  the  sharp  crack  of  rifle  shots  fired 
thick  and  fast  and  at  random  by  whites  and  Indians 
alike  in  the  midst  of  darkness  so  dense  one  might  almost 
feel  it,  and  rain  falling  in  sheets. 


CHAPTER  IX. 


A    CHANGE    IN    THE     PROGRAM — FOLLOWING    AN    ANCIENT 
AND    HONORABLE     CUSTOM,     SAM     BROWN    WEDS. 

A  blind  break  in  the  darkness  for  safety,  a  wild 
scramble  up  steep  and  almost  perpendicular  mountain 
sides,  mad  bellowings  of  frightened  steers,  the  snortings 
of  stampeding  horses,  Indians  trampled  upon  by  hundreds 
of  crazed  brutes  that  a  moment  later  are  themselves 
swept  away  by  the  torrent  of  water — silence. 

When  a  sense  of  that  awful  fate  that  awaited  them 
if  they  were  not  speedily  out  of  that  burst  upon  their 
consciousness,  the  half  dozen  white  men  in  the  Indian 
camp  made  for  the  nearest  mountain  side  with  all  possi 
ble  speed. 

It  was  Phil  who  gave  the  word  to  go,  but  there  was 
little  need  of  giving  it,  as  a  sense  of  their  peril  flashed 
upon  all  at  the  same  instant. 

"34) 


IS   THAT   YOU,    PETERS?  135 

Luckily  the  men  were  near  a  point  where  the  ledges 
were  less  steep  than  at  some  other  places,  and  all  suc 
ceeded  in  reaching  a  position  of  safety,  though  not  all 
in  getting  so  far  up  as  to  be  able  to  move  farther. 

Phil  and  Peters  found  themselves  lying  on  a  ledge  of 
rock  above  which  the  mountain  appeared  to  rise  in  a 
perpendicular  wall,  and  from  which  the  boiling,  foam 
ing,  seething  torrent,  now  rushing  along  with  a  deafen 
ing  roar  beneath  them,  made  it  impossible  to  escape. 

They  could  not  see  each  other  and  for  a  time  neither 
knew  who  the  other  was,  or  whether  it  was  not  an  Indian 
instead  of  a  white  man  ;  but  as  their  eyes  became  some 
what  accustomed  to  the  darkness,  or  more  probably,  as 
the  clouds  partially  dispersed,  their  vision  began  to  re 
turn  to  them  a  little,  and  Phil  finally  spoke  but  in  a  low 
tone  and  with  his  hand  upon  his  revolver. 

1  'Is  that  you,  Peters  ?" 

"I  reckon  so,  Phil,  though  I'm  not  quite  certain  ;  I 
may  be  an  Indian,  for  I  mistook  you  for  one." 

Nothing  further  was  said  for  some  time,  as  the  roar 
of  the  waters  made  hearing  difficult,  and,  besides  that, 
an  Indian  might  be  within  ten  feet  of  them  for  all  they 
could  tell,  and  if  so  they  knew  the  frightfulness  of  their 
situation  would  not  prevent  him  from  taking  their  lives, 
if  it  was  in  his  power  to  do  so. 

They  lay  thus,  flat  on  their  bellies,  for  what  seemed 
to  them  to  be  hours,  listening  to  the  roar  of  the  floods, 


136      SEARCHING  FOR  THEIR  COMPANIONS. 

which  gradually  grew  leas  and  less  and  finally  became  so 
faint  that  they  held  a  whispered  conversation  and  decided 
to  try  and  find  a  more  comfortable  position. 

Rain  had  ceased  some  time  before — in  fact,  none  had 
fallen  for  more  than  thirty  minutes. 

They  had  been  in  the  edge  of  the  cloud  which  had 
burst  a  couple  of  miles  farther  up  the  mountain  and 
thus  exhausted,  at  one  downpour,  the  ability  of  the 
heavens  to  supply  moisture  in  drops. 

They  had  not  really  been  confined  to  the  ledge  of 
rock  for  more  than  an  hour,  for  the  volume  of  water, 
great  as  it  was,  could  not  have  been  that  long  in  pouring 
through. 

After  descending  a  few  feet,  which  they  did  by 
holding  on  to  some  brush  and  cautiously  feeling  their 
way,  they  worked  along  a  little  to  the  left,  and  finding 
the  ledge  less  steep  clambered  up  again,  until  they 
were  two  or  three  hundred  feet  above  the  bed  of  the 
canyon,  and  then  crouched  down  and  waited  for  day 
light. 

When  daylight  came  they  continued  to  ascend,  but 
with  caution,  and  after  a  time  they  began  to  search  for 
their  companions — still  with  great  watchfulness  for  fear 
of  skulking  Indians. 

After  a  few  minutes'  search  they  found  one  and 
another  and  finally  all  the  four  men  who  were  with 
them  in  the  Indian  camp,  when  the  cloud  burst,  and 


SEARCHING   FOR   THEIR   COMPANIONS. 

together  they  began  working  around  toward  the  canyon, 
where  they  had  left  their  companions  the  night  be 
fore. 

To  reach  this  point  they  were  compelled  to  cross  the 
other  two  canyons,  which  they  did  with  difficulty,  and 
after  going  up  the  first  one  some  distance  to  where  the 
flow  of  water  was  less,  for  the  flood  had  not  yet  all 
poured  down,  but  only  the  larger  portion  of  it,  the  ground 
having  received  and  temporarily  sucked  in  a  large  part, 
which  it  was  now  yielding  up  again  to  be  carried  down 
the  canyon,  through  the  bed  of  the  little  creek,  and 
finally  into  the  Pecos  river  by  way  of  some  of  its  tributa 
ries,  and  so  on  to  the  gulf. 

After  crossing  the  two  canyons  they  entered  the 
third  and  followed  it  down  to  the  point  where  they  had 
parted  from  their  friends  the  night  before,  but  found  no 
traces  of  them. 

They  therefore  continued  on  and  out  through  the 
mouth  and  into  the  open  space  on  which  the  Indian 
camp  had  stood,  and  were  rejoiced  at  seeing  their 
friends  cautiously  skirting  along  on  the  opposite  side,  at 
a  point  not  far  from  where  they  had  themselves  scaled 
the  ledge  in  the  storm  and  darkness  but  a  few  hours 
before. 

Not  considering  it  safe  to  halloo,  they  remained 
under  cover  of  the  rocks  and  watched  until  one  of 
the  others  chanced  to  look  in  their  direction,  and 


ALL   UNITED  AGAIN. 

then  signaled  him  by  a  wave  of  the  hand  ;  and  soon 
the  little  party  was  united  again  and  congratulating 
each  other  on  their  miraculous  escape  from  an  awful 
death. 

It  appeared  that  the  cloud  burst  had  occurred  at  a 
distance  of  perhaps  a  couple  of  miles  up  the  mountains, 
at  which  point  the  canyons  diverged  a  considerable 
distance  from  each  other.  The  cloud  had  burst  over 
the  canyon  to  the  left  of  the  one  in  which  Brown  and 
his  party  lay  concealed,  and  awaiting  the  signal  by 
which  they  should  know  whether  or  not  the  others  had 
succeeded  in  stampeding  the  ponies  belonging  to  the 
Indians, 

He  and  those  who  were  with  him  had  followed  on 
down,  near  to  the  mouth  of  the  canyon,  as  agreed 
that  they  should  do,  and  when  the  firing  began  mads 
an  attempt  to  rush  forward  to  the  assistance  of  their 
companions,  but  were  met  by  a  wall  of  water  coming 
through  the  other  gorge  and  retreated  in  haste  to  the 
mountain  side  in  time  to  see  a  portion  of  the  ponies, 
part  of  them  with  riders  and  others  without,  and  followed 
by  a  bunch  of  a  hundred  steers  or  so,  rush  by  and  up 
the  steeps.  Some  of  the  cattle  fell  back,  but  others 
made  the  ascent  and  were  doubtless  wandering  about  in 
the  mountains. 

An  examination  of  the  country  on  both  sides  of  tho 


THE    CASUALTIES.  139 

main  canyon  was  now  made  but  not  a  live  Indian  could 
be  found. 

A  mile  or  more  down  the  canyon  the  dead  bodies  of 
a  score  or  more  steers,  drowned  in  the  flood,  were  piled 
up  against  a  ledge  of  rocks  where  the  waters  had  left 
them,  and  mingled  with  these  were  the  bodies  of  several 
ponies  and  three  of  the  savages. 

At  several  points  evidences  that  numbers  of  cattle 
and  ponies  had  clambered  up  the  steep  banks  and 
escaped  were  discovered,  and  after  consultation  it  was 
decided  to  put  in  a  day  in  scouting  about  in  search 
of  any  cattle  or  ponies  that  had  remained  in  the  vi 
cinity. 

No  further  fear  of  Indians  was  felt  by  any  of  the 
party  ;  or  but  very  little. 

Such  as  had  escaped  had  undoubtedly  fled  to  their 
Urongholds  and  villages  and  would  not  return  unless  in 
Search  of  missing  comrades. 

Indians  are  naturally  superstitious,  and  although 
acquainted  with  the  nature  and  devastating  power  of 
cloud  bursts,  they  were  yet  likely  to  find  in  the  awful- 
ness  of  the  storm,  coupled  as  it  was  with  an  attack 
from  enemies  which  they  did  not  expect,  some  reason 
for  believing  the  spot  to  be  the  abode  of  the  spirit  of  evil, 
and  to  give  it  as  wide  a  berth  as  possible  in  the 
future. 


140  ROUNDING   UP  THE   HERD  AGAIN. 

Two  days  were  spent  by  the  cowboys  in  searching 
for  cattle  and  ponies  in  the  vicinity. 

Of  the  former  they  secured  nearly  200  head  and 
of  the  latter  a  good  mount  apiece  and  two  or  three 
extra. 

Of  the  cattle  only  between  sixty  and  seventy  bore 
the  brand  of  Brown  and  Johnson,  but  even  this  number 
was  better  than  none,  and  the  party  made  its  way 
back  by  the  trail  it  had  come  ;  and  two  weeks  from  the 
day  of  the  raid  on  the  ranch,  Phil  and  his  partner 
rounded  up  their  herd  and  counted  187  head,  instead  of 
a  few  less  than  400,  which  had  walked  out  of  the  corral 
on  the  morning  on  which  the  raid  had  been  made. 

They  had  learned  meantime  that  the  men  who  had 
followed  the  third  part  of  the  band  when  it  divided  in 
the  foot-hills,  and  each  division  took  different  routes, 
had  been  unsuccessful  in  their  efforts  to  recapture  any 
portion  of  the  steers. 

The  Indians  whom  they  followed  had  taken  a  trail 
that  led  into  an  almost  inaccessible  part  of  the  mountains, 
and  being  joined  by  another  and  larger  body  of  Indians, 
had  been  able  to  hold  their  pursuers  in  check  and  eventu 
ally  to  escape  with  their  booty. 

It  was  believed  that  they  drove  the  steers  as  far  as 
they  could  and  then  slaughtered  the  whole  lot,  and 
taking  such  portion  as  they  could  pack  upon  their  ponies, 
left  the  rest  to  the  wolves  and  made  for  their  permanent 


PROFIT   AND   LOSS.  1 41 

camps,  to  which  place  few  white  men  have  ever  been 
able  to  follow. 

Naturally  enough,  both  Brown  and  Johnson  felt  their 
loss  quite  severely.  It  was  the  knocking  down  in  a 
very  rude  manner  oi  all  the  fine  castles  which  they  had 
built  in  the  air,  and  in  which  they  had  seen  themselves 
living  as  cattle  kings. 

In  fact,  it  was  the  putting  them  back  at  the  place 
from  which  they  had  started  two  years  before,  causing 
all  their  time  and  labor  to  count  for  nothing. 

However,  there  was  no  use  crying  over  spilled  milk. 
What  was  done  could  not  be  helped,  and  must  therefore 
be  put  up  with,  and  might  as  well  be  done  cheerfully  as 
complainingly. 

Their  herd  was  now  too  small  to  make  it  profitable 
to  drive  through  of  itself,  and  they  therefore  sold  it — 
what  was  left  of  it — to  a  buyer  on  the  spot  ;  18/  head  at 
$25  per  head,  $4,675;  just  $75  more  than  the  capital 
they  started  with. 

They  had  in  addition,  however,  their  little  band  of 
ponies  and  their  claim  to  the  ranch,  which  were  worth 
another  thousand  at  least. 

Before  the  raid  took  place  the  ranch  alone  would 
have  sold  for  several  times  this  sum,  as  good  chances  for 
grass  and  water  were  becoming  extremely  scarce  and 
difficult  to  obtain  ;  but  since  the  raid  nobody  wanted 
badly  to  buy  or  herd  where  the  risks  of  having  the 


142  BROWN   GOES   EAST   ON   A   VISIT 

stock  stolen  were  so  great ;  hence,  the  ranch  declined  in 
value  as  greatly  as  their  herd  had  declined  in  number. 

After  selling  they  must  of  course  buy  again,  but  be 
fore  doing  so  Brown  declared  that  he  would  pay  a  visit 
to  his  folks  in  the  East  ;  so,  after  making  arrangements 
with  Peters  to  care  for  the  little  band  of  ponies  and 
hold  the  ranch  until  they  returned,  the  partners  set  out 
for  Kansas. 

They  arrived  at  Caldwell  after  a  journey  without  in 
cidents  worth  relating.  Here  Phil  was  to  remain  until 
Brown  returned  from  the  East,  which  he  promised  should 
be  within  thirty  days. 

Instead,  however,  of  his  old  partner  back  at  the  end 
of  thirty  days  Phil  received  the  following  letter : 

"NEW  YORK,  N.  Y.,  Feb.  16,  188— . 
DEAR  PHIL  : 

I  know  you  will  feel  like  taking  my  scalp  when  you 
read  this,  but  I  can't  help  it.  I  only  hope  you  will  not 
think  I  meditated  treating  you  in  this  way  when  we 
parted,  for  I  honestly  and  truly  had  no  such  intentions. 

The  truth  is,  old  Pard,  I  am  married  and  am  not 
going  back  West.  Can't  do  it,  you  know.  You  will 
remember  that  I  owned  up  to  you  once,  one  awfully 
lonely  afternoon  out  there  on  the  plains,  that  it  was  not 
so  much  a  love  for  freedom  that  made  me  go  West,  as 
it  was  the  inability  to  get  just  the  party  I  wanted  to  own 
me  and  boss  me  around.  In  other  words,  I  had 


AND  WRITES    BACK   THAT   HE   IS   MARRIED.  143 

quarreled  with  my  girl  and  didn't  care  to  stay  around 
and  see  her  married  to  a  dude,  such  as  the  fellow  was 
that  I  thought  she  was  going  to  marry. 

Well,  all  this  time,  that  is,  the  time  I  put  in  with 
you  whacking  steers,  riding  bucking  ponies,  running 
down  jack  rabbits  and  fighting  Indians,  I  couldn't  quite 
get  rid  of  a  desire  to  know  whether  she  really  did  marry 
that  dude  or  not. 

Well,  when  I  got  back  here  and  met  her  on  the 
street,  the  very  first  person  that  I  did  meet,  and  I  knew 
she  was  glad  to  see  me  in  spite  of  my  being  tanned  al 
most  as  black  as  an  Apache,  I  couldn't  help  being  glad 
I  had  not  lost  my  scalp  on  that  raid. 

Honestly,  Phil,  I  couldn't  help  doing  as  I  did. 

I  am  awfully  sorry  for  you,  old  boy,  for  I  know  you 
will  be  disappointed  and  lonesome,  and  that  it  may  inter 
fere  with  your  plans  very  much  for  me  not  to  return. 

But  you  see  I  can't  leave  my  wife,  and  I  can't  take 
her  out  there  to  be  scalped  or  eaten,  so  what  can  I  do  ? 
You  are  welcome  to  my  share  in  the  ranch  and  also  to 
the  ponies,  and  I  hope  you  won't  have  a-ny  trouble  in 
finding  another  partner  with  money  enough  to  buy  a  big 
bunch  of  yearlings. 

Write  and  let  me  know  what  you  will  do  and  how 
you  are  feeling.  I  know  you  will  be  disappointed,  but  I 
hope  you  won't  feel  hard  at  me,  for  really,  Phil,  I  couldn't 
help  it. 

Your  old  friend  and  partner,  SAM  BROWN." 


144  WHICH  CAUSES  PHIL  TO  CONSIDER. 

Of  course  Phil  felt  disappointed. 

Not  to  mention  the  pecuniary  advantage  which  a 
partner  with  more  capital  than  he  himself  had  was  to 
him,  he  had  become  attached  to  Brown  during  the  two 
years  which  they  had  spent  together,  and  regretted  more 
than  anything  else  the  loss  of  his  companionship. 

He  did  not  doubt  that  he  could  find  another  man  to 
take  his  place,  and  quite  probably  one  with  more  capital 
than  Brown  possessed,  but  some  way  he  could  not  feel 
like  doing  so.  The  ranch  without  Brown  appeared  to 
his  mental  vision  immeasurably  lonely  and  far  from 
human  companionship. 

He  began  to  feel  that  he  did  not  wish  to  return  to 
it.  He  thought  of  Brown  and  the  happy  life  he  would 
lead  in  the  future  surrounded  by  friends,  husband  of  the 
woman  he  loved,  a  quiet,  happy  home  away  from  all 
danger  and  hardships.  Such  was  the  picture  he  kept 
imagining  to  himself  whenever  thoughts  of  his  late  part 
ner  came  into  his  mind  until  presently  the  desire  to  have 
such  a  home  began  to  grow  in  his  own  heart  and  to  take 
form  and  shape,  and  he  determined  not  to  return  to  the 
ranch  but  to  build  him  a  home  nearer  civilization  and  in 
the  midst  of  people  of  his  own  kind. 

Caldwell  was  in  those  days  the  headquarters  of  the 
Oklahoma  Boomers,  as  they  were  called,  of  whom  Capt. 
Paine  was  the  acknowledged  head  and  leader  up  to  the 
time  of  his  death,  some  years  ago,  and  it  is  probable 


PHIL   MEETS  WITH   A  BOOMER.  145 

that  it  was  meeting  with  a  member  of  the  colony  and 
hearing  him  discuss  the  plans  of  the  "boomers"  for 
building  up  a  community  and  a  state  out  of  this  beauti 
ful  strip  of  country  that  induced  Phil  to  decide  not  to 
return  to  New  Mexico,  but  instead  to  go  to  Oklahoma 
with  the  colonists  and  build  him  a  home  there,  and 
cease  forever  his  wanderings  and  his  rough  life. 

He  had  enough  to  make  a  start  with  ;  would  have 
a  full  thousand  dollars  after  selling  the  partnership  ranch 
and  band  of  ponies,  even  after  sending  Brown  his  Share, 
which  he  would  do,  not  wishing  to  be  under  obligations 
in  pecuniary  matters  even  to  him.  With  this  sum  to 
start  with  and  a  homestead  claim  on  one  of  the  little 
streams  in  the  beautiful  Oklahoma  country  he  could 
surely  make  a  home  to  his  mind,  after  which,  perhaps — 

Just  what  he  would  do  after  the  home  was  made  he 
did  not  say  even  to  himself,  but  thoughts  of  the  quiet, 
happy  life  Brown  was  leading  kept  coming  and  going 
in  his  mind,  and  mingled  with  them  were  visions  of  the 
old  ferry  on  the  Wabash,  and  of  the  old  folks,  and  of 
Nettie. 

He  even  got  so  far  along  as  to  wonder,  if  he  were  to 
go  back  as  Brown  had  done,  whether  or  not  the  same 
thing  that  had  happened  to  Brown  would  happen  to 
him.  He  could  not  quite  decide,  but  probably  not,  he 
told  himself.  Luck  didn't  seem  to  run  to  him,  anyway. 
Probably  Nettie  had  married  long  before  this,  and  every- 


146  AND  DECIDES  TO  GO  TO  OKLAHOMA. 

body  had  forgotten  him.  But  if  he  ever  did  decide  to 
make  another  attempt  to  find  how  things  were  back 
there  it  would  be  by  going  in  person  and  not  by  writing; 
he  was  fixed  in  his  mind  on  that  point  at  least. 

Meantime  he  would  go  to  Oklahoma  and  get  him  16o 
acres  of  land  and  make  him  a  home.  After  that — well, 
after  that  he  would  see. 


IN  THE  EMIGRANT  TRAIN. 


CHAPTER  X. 

OKLAHOMA. 

As  described  in  the  several  bills  for  its  organiza* 
tion  into  a  Territory  now  (June,  1886,)  before  Con 
gress,  Oklahoma  comprises  all  that  country  "bounded 
on  the  west  by  the  State  of  Texas  and  the  Territory  of 
New  Mexico,  on  the  north  by  the  State  of  Colorado  and 
the  State  of  Kansas,  on  the  east  by  the  State  of  Missouri 
and  the  State  of  Kansas,  and  on  the  south  by  the  State 
of  Texas." 

Oklahoma  proper,  however,  or  what  has  come  to 
be  popularly  known  as  such,  is  comprised  in  a  strip  of 
land  containing  1,887,  i oo  acres,  lying  directly  south  of 
the  eastern  portion  of  what  is  called  the  Cherokee  land 
strip,  itself  a  body  of  6,000,000  acres,  just  south  of  and 
adjoining  the  western  half  of  the  State  of  Kansas. 
Oklahoma  is  thus  very  nearly  in  the  exact  center  of  the 
Indian  Territory. 


148  A  BOOMER'S  OUTFIT. 

Oklahoma  formerly  belonged  to  the  Seminole  In 
dians  but  was  ceded  to  the  United  States  government 
by  that  tribe  under  treaty  of  March  1$,  1866,  and  was 
surveyed  and  section  lin'es  established  by  authority  of 
the  United  States  in  1873. 

Its  proximity  to  the  Indian  reservations  about  it, 
which  were,  as  they  still  are  to  a  considerable  extent, 
the  harboring  places  of  outlaws  from  all  portions  of  the 
country  and  all  colors  and  nationalities,  including 
Negroes  and  Mexicans,  made  it  a  location  not  desirable 
as  a  place  in  which  to  build  a  home  and  raise  a  family, 
unless  it  should  be  in  company  with  a  considerable 
number  of  other  home  builders  ;  and  it  was  in  order  to 
meet  this  necessity  for  neighbors  and  companions  that 
it  was  proposed  and  finally  decided  to  organize  a  colony 
for  settlement  in  that  beautiful  country. 

Having  decided  to  join  such  a  colony,  Phil  had  first 
to  provide  himself  an  outfit. 

A  span  of  mules,  a  wagon,  a  plow  and  a  few  other 
agricultural  implements,  an  ax  and  a  hammer,  a 
few  earthen  dishes  and  a  tin  bucket  and  cup — these 
comprise  an  outfit  which  is  considered  all-sumcient 
for  the  homesteader  who  is  content  to  be  the  pioneer 
in  a  new  country ;  and  these  Phil  provided  himself 
with. 

He  also  retained  the  pony  which  he  had  ridden 
through  from  New  Mexico,  and  of  course  laid  in  a  good 


PETERS   RAISES   A   STAKE.  149 

supply  of  ammunition,  for  until  a  crop  could  be  raised 
the  colonists  would  be  compelled  to  rely  for  food  very 
largely  upon  wild  game,  with  which  the  country  they 
were  going  to  was  reported  to  abound. 

Immediately  upon  deciding  not  to  return  to  New 
Mexico,  Phil  wrote  to  Peters  asking  him  to  sell  the  ranch 
and  ponies  which  he  and  Brown  had  placed  in  his 
charge,  or  if  he  wished  to  do  so  to  keep  them  himself, 
and  pay  for  them  at  such  time  as  he  could,  provided  it 
was  not  too  far  in  the  future. 

To  this  letter  Peters  replied,  inclosing  pay  for  the 
whole  outfit  at  the  very  low  cash  price  which  Phil  had 
fixed  upon  it,  and  saying  that  he  had  gone  partners 
with  another  man,  a  stranger  to  Phil,  and  they  were 
going  to  occupy  the  ranch  and  take  their  chances  with 
the  Indians. 

This  greatly  pleased  Phil,  for  he  was  anxious  to 
have  the  matter  finally  settled,  and  he  was  also  glad 
that  Peters  had  raised  a  stake  and  got  a  start  in 
life,  even  if  it  was  one  in  which  the  risks  were  pretty 
large,  for  now  that  he  was  out  of  it  himself,  he  felt 
that  the  herding  of  cattle  for  wages,  and  with  no  inter 
est  in  the  business  beyond  that  of  a  hired  hand,  was 
not  a  calling  calculated  to  bring  out  the  best  there  is 
in  one,  and  in  proportion  as  he  had  a  firm  friendship 
for  Peters,  did  he  rejoice  over  his  brightened  prospects  ; 
and  he  wrote  a  warm  letter  of  congratulation  in  reply, 


I5O  IN   THE   EMIGRANT  TRAIN. 

also  telling  his  old  friend  about  his  own  plans  and 
prospects. 

Then  when  all  was  ready,  the  little  band  of  colonists 
took  up  their  line  of  march  toward  the  promised 
land. 

There  were  about  forty  men  in  the  company,  some 
without  families,  but  more  with ;  all  able-bodied  and 
eager  to  reach  the  location  selected  in  advance,  and 
begin  the  work  of  home  building,  than  which  no 
man  ever  found  sweeter  employment  for  hand  or 
brain. 

A  long  string  of  covered  wagons,  each  drawn  by  a 
pair  of  horses  or  mules,  and  in  which  were  stored  what 
ever  of  household  goods  the  owner  and  his  family  pos 
sessed  ;  a  few  cows  driven  in  advance  or  following  in 
the  rear ;  from  one  to  a  half  dozen  faces  of  men  and 
women  and  children  peering  out  from  under  each  white 
wagon  cover ;  a  dozen  men  and  boys  astride  ponies  ;  as 
many  dogs  trotting  along  contentedly  by  the  side  of  as 
many  wagons,  or  breaking  away  together  in  a  mad  chase 
after  a  jack  rabbit,  and  all  barking  in  chorus  as  they  go 
—this  is  a  scene  familiar  to  all  who  have  been  upon  the 
frontier,  and  such  a  one  was  presented  by  the  colonists 
of  whom  Phil  Johnson  was  one,  on  the  morning  of  their 
departure  for  Oklahoma. 

Only  they  who  toil  with  their  hands  and  who  feel 
the  fetters  which  the  law,  or  that  which  is  declared 


IN   THE   EMIGRANT  TRAIN. 

to  be  the  law,  places  upon  them  in  the  acquisition  of 
wealth  and  consequently  upon  their  liberty  of  thought 
and  action,  can  understand  the  glorious  sense  of  free 
dom,  of  ability  to  conceive  and  execute  which  comes 
to  those  who,  haying  once  felt  the  fetters,  stand  freed 
upon  the  borders  of  a  new,  and  to  them  undiscovered 
country. 

To  such,  and  at  such  times,  there  comes  a  sense 
of  their  own  worth,  of  their  own  power  and  of  a  new 
courage  which  is  sweeter  than  anything  society  or  the 
world  can  give.  It  is  a  feeling  which  comes  to  men's 
hearts  straight  from  the  heart  of  God  and  lifts  them  up 
into  a  measure  of  the  manhood  which  in  its  perfectness 
is  worthy  of  being  said  to  be  in  His  image  who  is  the 
Creator  and  Father  of  all. 

Oh,  the  grandeur  of  liberty  !  Oh,  the  sweetness  of 
being  at  peace  !  AT  PEACE  ! 

Peace  with  nature  and  with  men  ;  the  peace  which 
comes  of  the  forgetting  of  jealousies,  both  great  and 
small  ;  of  ambitions  which  the  soul  cries  out  upon  as 
unworthy  of  the  man  ;  of  hatreds  born  of  greed  and 
envy. 

The  peace  which  comes  of  faith  in  one's  fellott  Han, 
itself  born  of  renewed  faith  in  one's  own  self,  of  one's 
own  hatred  of  the  bad,  and  love  for  and  allegianfc*  to 
that  which  is  pure  and  good. 

And  oh  !  for  a  knowledge  of  the  power  which  enab-^s 


1 52  PHIL  WOULD   BUILD   A   HOME. 

us  to  dare  and  to  do,  to  be  brave  and  strong  and 
good  ;  which  comes  with  a  sense  of  freedom  from  the 
fetters  which  men  in  their  selfishness  and  unwisdom 
throw  about  and  over  each  other  and  themselves,  when 
ever  they  do  touch  each  other's  elbows,. 

Phil  was  too  much  accustomed  to  this  sense  of  free 
dom  to  feel  any  new  inspiration  when  the  little  cavalcade 
left  the  town  behind  and  swung  out  into  the  unbroken 
world  beyond.  Not  having  felt  the  fetters,  he  could  not 
feel  their  falling  away  from  him  ;  but  he  sensed  the 
beauty  of  the  morning,  the  brightness  of  the  sun,  the 
softness  of  the  air,  the  quietness  and  goodness  of  nature 
which  lay  around  and  about  him. 

He  had,  too,  what  he  had  never  had  before,  a  feel 
ing  that  his  wanderings  were  over,  and  that  in  front  of 
him  lay  the  materials  from  which,  by  his  own  labor,  he 
was  to  build  a  home. 

And  a  home  meant — 

Well,  dear  reader,  what  would  not  home  mean  to 
one  whose  heart  held  the  memory  of  a  fair  young  girl's 
face,  a  face  not  seen  for  years,  but  none  the  less  fair 
for  this  reason,  since  not  seeing  it  with  the  physical 
sense  the  mental  eye  had  been  left  free  to  outline  it  as 
it  chose. 

So  Phil  would  build  a  home. 

As  for  the  others,  they  were  such  men  as  are  ever 
attracted  to  the  frontier  ;  such  as  have  laid  the  founda- 


BV  FATE  OR  CIRCUMSTANCES.  §53 

tions  for  whatever  of  liberty  the  people  boast,  whatever 
of  wealth  they  have  won,  while  civilization  and  the  race 
have  been  crossing  the  continent. 

They  were  men  blown,  by  fate  or  circumstances, 
from  far  and  near  ;  men  in  whose  hearts  the  love  of 
home  and  liberty  had  been  about  equally  implanted 
and  nourished ;  men,  perchance,  who  imagined  that 
the  bands  which  society  and  law  placed  upon  their 
efforts  to  set  metes  and  bounds  to  the  approach  of 
poverty  had  something  of  the  feel  of  the  slave  chain  ; 
men  who  had  been  in  debt,  and  to  whom  debt  meant 
the  curtailment  of  liberty  in  thought  and  action,  and 
consequently  degradation  ;  men — but  why  ask  me  of 
these  men  ?  Shall  not  their  own  acts  speak  for  them, 
and  am  not  1  their  chronicler  ?  Self-appointed,  it  is 
true,  but  none  the  less  truthful  to  their  thought  as  ex 
pressed  in  deeds. 

Whatever  they  had  felt  themselves  to  be  in  the 
past,  now  they  were  free.  Free  to  grow  and  expand 
to  the  full  stature  of  the  men  they  meant  to  be  ;  free  to 
build  homes  where  no  labor  of  theirs  but  should  bear 
fruit  for  their  own  eating — theirs  and  those  they 
loved. 

Was  ever  brighter  future  in  the  distance  seen  by 
men  ? 

And  the  children  ? 


154  HAPPY,    BAREFOOTED   CHILDREN 

Bless  me,  how  excited  and  happy  the  children  in 
those  covered  wagons  were  ;  for  were  they  not  to  see 
new  scenes,  to  visit  undiscovered  countries,  to  ride 
for  days  and  days  through  an  ever-varying  landscape, 
to  sleep  in  tents  and  eat  in  the  open  air,  to  be  free  to 
fish  in  the  streams,  to  catch  rabbits  and  trap  squirrels 
and  prairie  chickens  and  may  be  larger  game,  if  they 
could  ? 

And  whenever  did  a  child  doubt  its  ability  to  do 
anything  it  wished  to  do  and  never  had  tried  to  do  ? 
Were  they  not  to  be  free  and  happy  and  busily  idle  all 
the  day  long  ? 

If  you  wish  to  know  how  happy  were  the  children 
of  those  colonists  on  that  morning  when  this  journey 
began,  just  propose  to  your  own  children  such  a  journey 
in  your  own  and  their  mother's  company  ;  being  first 
careful  to  talk  for  weeks  and  months  of  the  beauty  of 
the  country  to  which  you  are  going,  and  of  the  pleasures 
of  such  a  trip,  and  from  their  faces  and  childish  words 
and  acts  you  can  judge  of  the  happiness  of  those  other 
children,  whose  faces  peer  from  the  wagons  just  starting 
upon  their  journey  on  that  sunny  morning  of  which  I 
write. 

And  the  women  ? 

Why,  the  women  had  their  husbands  and  children  ; 
what  more  has  anybody  thought  necessary  to  woman's 


AND   SUN-BONNETED   WOMEN.  1 55 

perfect  happiness  than  that  she  have  her  husband  and 
children  ? 

You  do  but  disclose  your  ignorance,  my  dear  sir,  of 
what  the  world,  the  old  moss-covered,  time-defying 
world,  has  decided  Is  woman's  sphere.  My  dear  madam, 
you  do  but  disclose  your  treason  to  old  and  time-honored 
theories,  who  question  so  of  woman^  Is  it  not  enough, 
I  say,  that  she  had  her  husband  and  children  ?  Knowing 
so  much,  what  right  have  you  to  ask  more  or  to  say  :  "Is 
she  happy?"  "Is  she  filled  with  sweet  content?"  "Is 
she  lifted  up  with  great  thoughts  of  great  deeds — deeds 
the  thought  of  which  causes  her  soul  to  expand  and 
reach  upward  ?" 

They  had  their  husbands  and  children  ;  what  more 
would  you  have  them  have,  or  what  have  they  ever 
had  or  left  behind  that  you  should  ask  of  these  women, 
who,  going  upon  a  hard,  long  journey,  into  a  new 
country,  to  live  lives  of  toil,  have  their  husbands  and 
children  still  with  them  ?  Is  the  world  then  wrong,  and 
has  woman  longings,  sometimes,  for  wider  fields  and 
greater  things  than  she  has  yet  been  permitted  to 
know  ? 

Sun-bonneted  women,  who  were  the  wives  of  these 
men,  and  the  mothers  of  these  children  of  whom  I 
write,  had  all  that  any  of  their  sisters  anywhere  have 
to  make  them  happy,  and  they  were  happy  as  any  ; 
happier  than  most ;  for  added  to  love  of  husband  and 


156  THE   HALT   AT   NOON. 

child  was  the  knowledge  of  the  necessity  of  their  own 
existence  and  labors  to  the  comfort  and  happiness  of 
those  they  loved. 

It  was  a  happy,  joyous  company,  and  the  sun  shone 
bright  and  the  air  was  soft  and  the  grass  green  as 
they  drove  away,  and  merry  voices  shouted  one  to 
another  from  out  the  wagons — voices  of  women  and 
voices  of  children,  while  men  grown  suddenly  self- 
reliant,  strode  by  their  side,  or  sitting  in  the  front- 
end  of  the  wagon,  spoke  cheerily  to  their  teams  as 
they  urged  them  forward  along  the  trail  over  the  broad 
prairies. 

At  noon  they  halted  for  a  short  hour  while  their 
horses  fed  upon  the  crisp  buffalo  grass,  and  they  them 
selves  ate  cold  lunches  of  bread  and  meat  out  of  their 
provision  boxes  ;  then  on  again  until  the  sun  is  low  in 
the  west,  when  they  went  into  camp  on  the  banks  of  a 
clear  little  stream  which  meandered  through  the  prairie, 
and  upon  whose  banks  were  growing  scattered  pecan 
and  cottonwood  trees,  over  which  in  places  wild  grape 
vines  ran  riot,  and  in  whose  branches  birds  sang  and 
flitted  back  and  forth,  and  told  their  tales  of  love  to  one 
another. 

The  stream  was  too  small  to  contain  fish  of  much 
size,  but  large  minnows  with  sparkling  silvery  sides 
darted  to  and  fro  in  the  clear  water ;  a  sight  which 
brought  shouts  from  the  throats  of  a  score  of  children 


SUPPER  157 

who  came  clambering  down  from  the  wagons,  and  skip 
ping  over  the  grass  and  swarmed  upon  the  creek  banks, 
making  as  many  antics  and  "shines"  as  a  troop  of  young 
monkeys. 

Instantly  a  chorus  of  callb  rang  out,  much  after  this 
fashion  :  "O  ma !  I  want  my  fishing  hook."  "O  pa  ! 
Get  me  my  fish  pole  right  away,  quick,  'cause  here's 
fish — lots  of  'em — 'n  I  want  to  catch  some  for  supper." 

What  glorious  music  this  was  to  the  patriarchs  of 
this  modern  Exodus  ! 

Then  one  boy  fell  in  the  creek,  which  was  perhaps 
two  feet  deep,  and  all  the  others  set  up  a  howl,  the  girls 
for  fear  he  was  drowned,  and  the  boys  because  they 
feared  he  had  frightened  all  the  fish  away. 

And  when  he  climbed  out  and  declared  that  "The 
water  was  just  right  to  go  swimmin'  in,"  half  of  them 
forgot  their  desire  to  fish  and  went  scampering  away 
down  stream  in  search  of  a  good  place  in  which  to  un 
dress  and  bathe,  and  only  such  as  were  called  back  and 
sent  for  wood  to  cook  the  supper  were  less  than 
gloriously  happy.  Even  these  were  so  full  of  spirits  a 
little  hard  work  could  not  dampen  their  ardor  except  for 
a  few  minutes. 

Indeed  the  rarity  of  getting  wood  for  an  outdoor  fire 
was  enough  to  make  them  happy  of  itself. 

And  so  the  women  and  the  elder  children  gathered 
fuel  and  cooked  supper,  while  the  men  unharnessed 


158  AND   PIPES. 

the  horses,  and  having  washed  their  sweaty  shoulders 
in  the  creek  staked  them  out  to  grass,  and  then  all  fell 
to  for  a  meal  which  an  epicure  might  well  envy, 
provided  the  epicure  had  ridden  all  day  in  an  emi 
grant  wagon  or  walked  by  the  side  of  one  carrying 
his  gun  on  the  shoulder  for  the  pleasure  of  a  chance 
shot  now  and  then  at  a  prairie  chicken  or  a  mule-eared 
rabbit. 

And  then  the  stories  told  about  the  camp  fire  when 
pipes  are  lit,  and  a  feeling  of  perfect  peace  and  rest- 
fulness  has  taken  possession  of  body  and  soul  ;  stories 
of  other  days  and  other  men  (perchance  their  fathers) 
and  their  frontier  lives  ;  lives  that  closed  but  yesterday, 
yet  were  spent  upon  frontiers  a  thousand  miles  to  the 
east,  where  now  stand  cities,  and  where  the  hum 
and  bustle  of  commerce  and  trade,  the  whistle  of  the 
steam  engine  and  the  rattle  of  the  loom,  have  driven 
the  deer  and  the  bear  from  the  forests  and  transformed 
the  forests  themselves  into  fields  of  corn  and  barley  and 
clover. ' 

It  may  be  that  memories  of  their  own  old  homes, 
the  homes  they  have  left  and  the  friends  they  have  loved, 
call  up  thoughts  that  are  half  sad  and  mournful,  pro 
ducing  momentary  regret  that  they  have  ventured  upon 
this  journey  in  search  of  new  homes. 

There  is  that  in  the  flickering  blaze  of  a  camp  fire 
by  night,  and  in  the  blue  columns  of  smoke  rising  up 


THE   CAMP   FIRE. 

from  burning  brands  as  they  fall  away  from  the  main 
body  of  the  fire,  the  smoke  that  curls  upward  and  is 
twisted  and  blown  about  by  the  faintest  breath  of  air, 
that  tends  to  excite  almost  any  feeling  which  he  who 
sits  and  watches  it  wills. 

A  veritable  fairy  is  the  fire,  and  a  veritable  wand  in 
its  hand  is  the  blue  smoke  curling  upward,  and  to  see 
pictures  either  gay  or  somber,  he  who  sits  within  the 
magic  circle  has  but  to  wish,  and  lo,  he  shall  seem  to 
see  that  which  he  wishes  for. 

But  mostly  these  men,  these  colonists  bound  for  the 
promised  land,  talk  of  the  country  to  which  they  are 
going. 

Their  leader,  a  man  well  worthy  to  lead  such 
seekers  for  such  homes,  was  called  upon  to  tell  again 
how  broad  were  its  prairies,  how  deep  and  clear  its 
streams,  how  here  the  land  lay  like  the  waves  of  the  sea 
when  the  wind,  just  touching  it  with  its  breath,  compels 
it  to  lift  and  fall  gently  like  the  sweet  breasts  of  women; 
and  how  in  other  places  it  was  broken  and  rough,  plowed 
deep  in  gulleys,  and  ledges  of  rock  were  thrust  up 
through  the  soil  and  huge  boulders  lay  scattered  about  as 
if  the  giants  of  other  days  had  once  held  high  carnival 
there,  and  vied  with  each  other  in  giving  tests  of  their 
strength  before  admiring  audiences  of  the  gods. 

He  told  them,  too,  of  the  abundance  of  the  game  ; 


I6O  THE   PROMISED   LAND. 

how  deer  and  antelope  fed  upon  the  prairies  and 
mated  in  the  woodland ;  how  wild  turkeys  stalked 
about  beneath  the  shadows  cast  by  the  tall  trees  upon 
the  river  banks,  and  nested  in  the  high  grass  at  their 
roots  ;  how,  turn  your  footsteps  which  way  you  would, 
flocks  of  prairie  chickens  rose  and  went  sailing  away 
across  the  open  country  ;  how  the  grapevine  clambered 
over  the  trees  along  the  margins  of  the  creeks,  and 
the  pecan  and  the  walnut  trees  dropped  their  rich 
nuts  in  profusion  upon  the  ground  beneath,  and  the 
red  and  black  haw  and  the  persimmon  trees  stood  in 
clusters. 

And  then  these  men,  these  home  seekers,  these 
men  in  rude  costumes  and  faces  all  unshaven  ;  these 
men  of  strong  limbs  and  vivid  imaginations,  rose  from 
off  the  ground  where  they  had  set  listening,  and  stretched 
out  their  arms  as  if  to  clasp  the  future  which  they  felt 
to  be  so  great,  and  talked  earnestly  of  the  mighty  state 
which  they  should  found,  and  the  homes  they  should 
build  in  this  land  of  liberty,  this  promised  land  of  corn 
and  wine. 

Wearied,  at  last,  with  the  long  day's  drive,  first 
one  and  then  another  began  to  slip  away  to  his  wagon 
and  his  blankets,  noticing  which  the  watch  was  called 
by  the  leader,  and  two  men  arose  and  went,  rifle  in 
hand,  through  and  around  the  camp,  and  so  con 
tinued  watching,  that  nothing  went  wrong  among  the 


PLANNING  TO  BUILD  STATES.          l6S 

tethered  animals,  or  about  the  smoldering  camp  fire, 
until  two  hours  had  passed,  when  they  awoke  two  of 
their  companions  to  take  their  places,  and  they  lay  down 
to  rest. 

Phil  had  no  part  in  the  watch  that  night,  but  he 
was  long  in  rinding  sleep.  This  hearing  men  talk 
of  homes  and  states  to  be  builded  had  given  him  new 
thoughts,  and  awakened  nobler  ambitions  than  he  had 
known  before  ;  had  opened  to  him  a  new  life — a  life 
wherein  he  saw  men  as  something  better  and  higher 
than  he  had  ever  thought  of  them  before  ;  saw  them 
aspiring  to  the  great  and  mighty  things  ;  to  be  the 
forerunners  of  a  great  and  wondrous  civilization  that 
should  follow  fast  upon  their  heels,  and  add  new 
honor  and  power  to  the  nation,  new  dignity  to  the  race 
of  men. 

To  him  these  men  seemed  nobler  and  more  grandly 
made  than  any  men  he  had  ever  known  before.  He 
did  not  understand  how  men's  grander  impulses  always 
bring  to  the  surface  their  better  selves  ;  that  the  build 
ing,  by  honest  toil,  of  homes  dedicated  to  the  domestic 
virtues,  within  a  state  dedicated  to  true  liberty,  is 
so  high  a  mission  that  its  light  illuminates  men's 
souls  and  makes  them  great,  just  to  talk  and  plan  of 
such. 

Yet,  so  it  is,  and  Phil  was  himself  all  unconsciously 
a  living  proof  of  it  that  moment ;  for  he  felt  lifted  up 


1 62  PLANNING   TO   BUILD   NEW  STATES. 

and  made  larger  every  way  by  the  thoughts  which  came 
to  him  in  consequence,  as  he  lay  awake  and  thinking 
that  first  night  out  with  the  little  colony  of  which  he 
was  a  member. 


THE  WITNESS. 


CHAPTER   XL 

IN      WHICH     THE     SUN     ENDEAVORS     TO     GET    THERE     IN 
ADVANCE    OF    THE    BOOMERS. 

Have  you  ever  noticed,  dear  reader,  that  the  sun 
gets  up  awful  early  in  prairie  countries  ?  Well,  he  does, 
and  he  goes  to  bed  late,  too,  which  makes  his  early 
rising  all  the  more  inexcusable. 

I  suppose  that  a  scientist — a  scientist  is  one  who 
knows  everything  that  is  not  worth  knowing  and  nothing 
that  anybody  else  cares  about — a  scientist  would  tell 
you  that  the  sun  sets  just  as  early  in  a  prairie  country, 
and  gets  up  just  as  late  as  in  a  mountainous  one  ;  but 
then,  too,  a  scientist  will  tell  you — some  of  'em  will — 
that  the  sun  does  not  set  at  all  ;  which  proves  how  little 
dependence  there  is  to  be  put  in  a  scientist. 

Everybody  who  has  ever  worked  in  the  harvest  field 
on  a  big  prairie  can  tell  you  that  the  sun  gets  up  at  least 
an  hour  earlier,  and  goes  out  of  sight,  and  I  suppose  to 


I 64  BREAKFAST. 

bed,  at  least  an  hour  later  than  he  does  when  one  works 
in  a  harvest  field  up  in  the  valleys ;  and  all  the  scientists 
in  this,  or  any  other  country,  can't  make  us  believe  any 
thing  else. 

The  sun  got  up  early  next  morning,  as  he  always 
does  in  a  prairie  country,  but  not  early  enough  to  catch 
all  the  emigrants,  encamped  on  the  creek  bank,  be 
tween  blankets. 

''There  comes  the  sun,"  called  one  of  them  to  an* 
other,  whose  head  just  then  appeared  at  the  front  of 
his  covered  wagon. 

"Well,  let  him  come;  I'm  up,"  was  the  response, 
as  the  speaker  crawled  out  over  the  end-board  on  to 
the  wagon-tongue  and  then  to  the  ground. 

Then  came  others,  from  out  wagons  and  from  be 
neath  them,  and  from  under  blankets  stretched  beneath 
the  trees  men  came  forth  and  shook  themselves,  and 
went  to  the  creek's  edge  and  washed  the  dust  of  sleep 
from  their  eyelids,  and  went  and  found  their  animals  and 
staked  them  to  fresh  spots  of  grass. 

And  women,  through  the  partially  open  canvas 
wagon  covers,  could  be  seen  slipping  their  own  or 
the  children's  frocks  on,  and  at  minute  later  descend 
ing  to  the  ground  to  begin  preparations  for  break 
fast. 

And  presently  the  smell  of  coffee  began  to  pene 
trate  the  camp  and  to  float  out  upon  the  still  air,  until 


BREAKFAST.  1 6$ 

it  reached  the  men  as  they  worked  with  their  horses  or 
gathered  in  little  groups,  talking  of  the  distance  to  the 
next  water,  or  the  time  it  would  take  them  to  reach 
their  destination,  and  it  brought  them  back  to  their 
several  camp  fires  and  families. 

And  then  the  odor  of  frying  ham  or  bacon  mingled 
with  the  smell  of  coffee  boiling ;  and  these  men  and 
women  and,  children  gathered  about  a  rough  box  set 
upon  the  ground  and  ate  of  the  hearty  food  and  drank 
of  the  fragrant  coffee,  to  which  such  as  would  added 
new  milk  freshly  drawn  from  the  cows  belonging  to  this 
or  that  one  of  the  colonists,  and  which  was  passed  about 
with  free  hands  to  those  who  wished  for  it. 

Then  came  the  packing  by  the  women  of  the  few 
utensils  used  in  cooking,  while  the  men  hitched  the 
animals  to  the  wagons. 

A  quick  glance  around  to  see  that  nothing  of  value 
was  being  left,  and  then  a  succession  of  sounds  and 
sentences,  snap  of  whip,  "Get  up,"  "Pull  out,  boys," 
"Keep  to  the  left  around  the  bend  of  the  creek  there," 
"Be  careful  with  your  guns,  you  youngsters,"  the  creak 
ing  of  wagons — and  the  emigrants  are  again  upon  their 
way,  and  the  first  night  and  morning  of  their  journey 
have  come  and  gone. 

The  first  day  and  the  second  are  the  same,  and 
those  which  follow  are  like  unto  them  save  as  the 
succession  of  rolling  and  broken  prairie,  and  wood  and 


166  ON   THE   MOVE. 

streams  give  variety  to  the  scenery,  and  as  with  better 
acquaintance  little  friendships  spring  up  between  the 
women,  resulting  in  visits  from  one  to  the  other  as  the 
wagons  move  on  and  on  along  the  trail  made  by  herds 
of  cattle,  or  by  the  men  who  carry  the  government 
mail. 

Catching  fish  in  the  stream  by  which  they  camped, 
occasional  dashes  on  horseback  in  pursuit  of  deer, 
sometimes,  though  not  often,  successful,  frequent  shoot 
ing  into  flocks  of  prairie  chickens,  killing  so  many  that 
the  whole  camp  ate  of  them,  slipping  away  and  fol 
lowing  the  banks  of  some  wooded  stream  in  a  still  hunt 
for  turkeys  or  deer,  until  a  hard  ride  to  catch  up,  or  if 
no  horse  is  used,  a  long  walk  after  the  sun  is  down,  ar>4 
darkness  covers  the  prairie  with  its  mantle — these  helped 
to  form  diversions  and  break  the  monotony  of  what 
might  at  other  times  have  been  a  wearisome  journey, 
and  served  to  keep  up  the  keen  enjoyment  with  which 
all  entered  upon  it. 

And  when  finally,  after  two  weeks  of  such  travel  and 
such  life,  the  spot  selected  for  the  settlement  was  reached, 
though  all  were  glad  to  be  able  to  begin  the  building  of 
homes,  yet  few  there  were  who  did  not  look  back  over 
the  short  journey  with  a  half  sigh  at  its  hours  and  days 
of  freedom  from  oppressive  cares,  and  at  thought  of  the 
labor  to  be  performed  ere  homes  could  arise  in  which 


LOCATING   THE   SETTLEMENT. 

they  might  sit  them  down  to  rest  and  comfort  without 
fear  of  want. 

The  location  selected  for  the  colony  was  a  beauti 
ful  country  lying  along  one  of  the  forks  of  the  Canadian 
river  ;  the  rich  land,  abundance  of  timber  suited  for 
building  purposes  and  fuel,  together  with  the  climate, 
which  is  nowhere  excelled  for  healthfulness  or  comfort, 
making  it  appear  a  paradise  to  these  people,  as  indeed 
it  well  might  be,  or  might  be  made  to  be. 

Having  decided  upon  a  location,  the  next  thing  to  be 
done  was  to  ascertain  the  sectional  lines,  in  order  that 
each  homesteader  might  select  a  quarter  section  for  his 
own,  as  each  head  of  a  family  is  entitled  under  the  law 
to  do,  from  any  unoccupied  lands  belonging  to  the 
government. 

Accordingly  a  surveyor's  chain  and  tripod  belonging 
to  one  of  the  party,  who  had  done  a  little  surveying  as 
assistant  to  a  more  experienced  hand,  were  brought  forth, 
and  Phil  and  two  or  three  others  shouldered  their  guns 
and  started  out  with  them  to  find  a  corner  post  or  mark 
of  some  kind  which  would  locate  a  corner  and  give  them 
a  start. 

After  much  wandering  about  and  examination  of 
trees  and  rocks,  and  tramping  through  the  high  grass, 
the  party  returned  to  dinner  with  a  huge  load  of  prairie 
chickens  shot  on  the  wing,  but  no  more  knowledge  of 


108  T.     12,  R.    3   W.,    S.    28. 

the  location  of  section  lines  than  they  had  when  they 
started. 

After  dinner  they  set  out  again,  but  at  the  sug 
gestion  of  some  of  the  older  heads  left  their  guns  at  the 
camp. 

Again  a  weary  tramp,  and  the  scanning  of  every 
thing  which  they  fancied  could  by  any  possibility  be  a 
* 'witness,"  but  still  without  success,  until  just  as  they 
were  upon  the  point  of  retracing  their  footsteps  again 
and  abandoning  the  search  for  the  day  Phil  stumbled 
against  the  stump  of  an  old  cottonwood  tree,  the  body 
of  which  had  fallen,  and  together  with  the  stump  was 
almost  hidden  in  the  tall  grass.  A  moment  later  his 
companions  heard  his  cheerful  ' 'halloo." 

"Here  she  is,  boys  ;  I've  found  her." 

They  came  hurrying  toward  him. 

'  'This  tree  was  standing  when  the  survey  was  made, 
and  here  is  where  they  blazed  her;  and  here,  see, 
there's  the  numbers,  T.  I2,R.  3  W. ,  S.  28,  plain  as  can 
be,  though  I'll  be  hanged  if  I  know  what  it  means 
exactly." 

"That  means  town  12,  range  3  west,  section  28." 

It  was  the  surveyor  who  contributed  this  explanation. 

"We  are  all  right  now"  he  continued;  "we  will 
come  back  here  in  the  morning,  and  with  this  for  a  base, 
run  out  the  quarters  in  this  section  and  as  many  more 
as  the  boys  want ;  no  trouble  to  find  the  other  corners, 


THE   WITNESS.  169 

|t>u  know.  Even  if  we  should  miss  them  a  few  feet  we 
t-an't  miss  them  so  far  but  that  we  can  find  them  easy 
»«fiough." 

'  'Kind  of  darned  queer  that  this  here  stump  should 
have  happened  td~  stand  exactly  on  the  corner  of  a  section, 
dint  it  now  ?"  queried  another. 

The  surveyor  smiled  and  scratched  his  head. 

4 'The  fact  is,"  he  said,  "that  this  is  not  the  exact 
corner  ;  they  simply  made  this  the  witness.  That  is, 
they  marked  it  to  show  that  there  is  a  corner  not  far 
from  here,  and  that  the  tree  was  nearer  to  it  than  any 
other  prominent  object  ;  though  for  that  matter  they 
would  have  marked  three  trees  if  they  had  stood  any 
where  near  and  on  different  sides  of  the  corner  ;  in  which 
^ase  the  corner  would  be  found  somewhere  in  the  circle 
<nade  by  the  three  'witnesses."1 

"Thunder!  I  thought  you  said  we  could  comeback 
here  in  the  morning,  and  starting  from  this  stump  find 
any  other  corner  we  wanted  to  ;  and  now  it  seems  we 
aint  found  the  corner  at  all." 

1  'Oh,  well,  we  can  easily  find  it  I  reckon  ;  it  can't  be 
far  away  now." 

Search  was  at  once  begun,  but  again  without  result, 
and  the  party  returned  to  camp  to  report  progress,  and 
get  something  to  eat ;  particularly  the  latter. 

The  next  day  search  was  resumed,  and  after  wal 
lowing  down  the  grass  over  a  piece  of  ground  nearly 


I/O  RUNNING   THE   QUARTER   LINES. 

an  acre  in  extent,  a  small  stone  with  nearly  square 
sides  and  about  a  foot  long,  bearing  the  marks  of 
having  been  chipped  into  shape  by  use  of  an  ax  or 
hammer,  was  found  set  in  the  ground  and  protruding 
only  a  few  inches  above  the  sod,  and  the  men  knew 
that  this  time  they  had  the  exact  corner  and  could  be 
gin  the  work  of  running  quarter  lines  with  this  for  a 
base. 

The  remainder  of  the  day  and  the  next  day  and  the 
next  were  spent  in  running  lines  and  fixing  corner  posts  ; 
and  then  every  head  of  a  family  proceeded  to  locate  his 
quarter  section. 

Some  selected  theirs  in  the  open  lands  lying  nearest 
the  river  banks,  regarding  such  as  the  richest  and  hence 
the  most  valuable  land. 

Others  chose  the  second  bottom,  as  being  less  liable 
to  possible  overflow,  or  because  they  liked  better  the 
lay  of  the  land  to  the  south  or  the  west,  or  for  some 
one  of  the  many  reasons  which  cause  men  to  differ  in 
their  judgment  of  what  is  desirable  in  a  farm,  but 
all  striving  to  get  some  portion  both  of  timber  and 
prairie. 

All  were  satisfied  and  delighted  with  the  situation 
and  prospects,  and  each  began  such  improvements  as 
are  required  by  law  to  be  made  in  evidence  of  the 
honesty  of  purpose  on  the  part  of  the  settler  of  occupy- 


PHIL  ARRANGES  FOR  HIS  BOARD 

ing  the  land  in  person,  and  for  the  purpose  of  making 
it  his  or  her  permanent  home. 

For  this  purpose,  as  well  as  for  their  own  conven 
ience  in  living,  a  house  of  some  kind  must  be  erected, 
and  to  this  task  ~ the  colonists  set  themselves  with 
right  good  will.  That  was  their  object  in  coming,  and 
now  that  they  were  come,  they  were  eager  to  begin  the 
work. 

' 'Changing  work,"  that  is,  two  or  more  parties 
forming  a  little  company,  and  all  working  together  first 
for  one  and  then  for  another,  enabled  them  to  do  their 
work  easily  and  pleasantly. 

The  houses  were  of  logs  cut  from  the  timber  grow 
ing  along  the  river  bank,  and  hauled  to  the  spot  by 
the  doubling  up  of  teams,  after  having  swung  the  larger 
end  of  the  log  by  a  chain  under  the  hind  axle  of  the 
wagon. 

Phil  worked  with  a  man  by  the  name  of  Jones, 
with  whom  and  his  wife  he  had  messed  ever  since  the 
journey  began  ;  having  made  arrangements  with  them  to 
cook  for  him,  in  return  for  such  service  as  he  could 
render  in  the  loan  of  his  team  or  pony  ;  Jones  being 
poor  and  not  well  fixed  so  far  as  teams  and  implements 
were  concerned. 

Phil  was  to  furnish  his  own  provisions  under  their 
first  agreement,  but  not  finding  this  a  convenient  way 
of  doing  things,  they  fixed  it  up  differently ;  Jones 


172  WITH   MRS.    AND  MR.    JONES. 

buying  Phil's  stock  of  provisions  and  paying  him  in 
board  at  so  much  a  week. 

For  a  time  and  until  they  got  their  houses  up  every 
body  lived  in  their  wagons  or  in  tents,  with  which  a 
number  of  the  colonists  had  provided  themselves,  and  of 
course  cooked  their  meals  out  of  doors. 

As  for  Phil,  he  was  too  used  to  camp  life  to  wish 
for  any  better  bed  than  the  ground,  unless  it  rained, 
and  even  then  he  could  have  stood  it  under  his  gum 
blanket  without  much  complaining  if  there  had  been 
no  shelter  at  hand.  As  it  was,  he  slept  on  the  ground 
when  the  ground  was  dry  and  in  his  wagon  when  it 
was  not. 

He  could  easily  have  cooked  his  own  "grub,"  for 
that  matter,  and  at  first  intended  to  do  so,  but  hav 
ing  made  the  acquaintance  of  the  Joneses,  who  were 
very  nice  people,  he  decided  to  accept  their  offer  to 
eat  with  them,  made  without  a  desire  to  receive  pay 
therefor,  and  to  aid  them  in  return  as  stated,  thus 
making  it  a  favor  to  them  equally  as  much  as  to  him 
self. 

Both  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Jones  were  past  middle  life 
and  without  children,  and  Mrs.  Jones  was  such  a 
motherly  woman,  and  together  with  her  husband  took 
so  kindly  an  interest  in  Phil,  that  he  grew  confidential 
and  told  her  of  his  having  run  away  from  home  and  of 
his  life  ever  since.  He  wanted  very  much  to  tell  her 


A  DESERTED  VILLAGE.  173 

about  Nettie,  and  ask  her  advice  about  ever  going  back 
to  try  and  find  out  all  about  her,  but  he  could  not  quite 
get  up  his  courage  to  do  so. 

A  site  for  the  town,  which  everybody  expected 
would  grow  into  u  city  in  a  few  years,  was  marked 
off  on  the  high  ground  just  back  of  the  river,  and 
here  most  of  the  colonists  made  their  camps  and 
cooked  and  ate  and  slept,  what  time  they  were  getting 
their  houses  up,  and  indeed  many  of  them  were  in  no 
hurry  to  get  their  houses  up,  preferring  to  live  in  the 
wagons  for  a  time  until  they  could  first  break  a  bit  of 
ground,  and  get  something  planted  and  growing  upon 
which  to  live,  without  having  to  depend  too  entirely 
upon  game  and  fish. 

So  a  month,  two  months,  passed  by  and  many  were 
still  camping  out,  and  still  a  dozen  covered  wagons  stood 
in  the  *  'village"  whose  owners  had  not  yet  completed 
their  houses. 

But  gradually  one  by  one  the  wagons  were  drawn 
away  to  the  different  claims  by  their  owners,  until 
none  remained,  and  the  first  town  laid  out  in  Okla 
homa  had  become,  for  the  time  at  least,  a  '  'deserted 
village." 

But  if  the  village  was  deserted  the  country  about  it 
was  not. 

Standing  on  the  little  eminence  selected  for  the 
town  site,  one  might  see  upon  every  quarter  sec- 


174  THE   HOME   BUILDERS. 

tion  for  two  or  three  miles  on  each  side,  bits  of  plowed 
land — black  streaks  upon  a  sea  of  green.  These 
were  the  beginnings  of  fields  which  the  colonists  in 
tended  should  grow  into  broad  fields  of  grain  in  another 
year. 

Some  of  these  were  already  showing  long  thin  rows 
of  green  peeping  through  the  black  earth,  the  evidence 
of  springing  corn  which  would  ripen  into  golden  ears 
yet  this  first  season,  and  furnish  food  both  to  man  and 
beast  through  the  coming  year. 

In  gardens  about  each  cabin  vegetables  and  vines 
were  growing,  having  been  planted  and  cared  for  in  most 
instances  by  the  hands  of  the  women  and  children,  while 
the  husbands  and  fathers  were  busy  turning  broader 
acres  for  broader  fields  of  grain. 

Phil  planted  no  garden  of  his  own,  but  he  aided 
Jones  in  breaking  up  and  planting  one  about  the  latter's 
cabin,  and  afterward  helped  keep  it  clean  ;  but  for  him 
self  he  had  no  use  for  one  since  he  boarded  with  these 
friends  of  his. 

With  the  exception  of  helping  Mr.  Jones,  he  devoted 
himself  wholly  to  turning  long  straight  lines  of  black' 
across  one  entire  end  of  his  quarter  section,  and  took  a 
mighty  interest  in  seeing  this  strip  grow  from  day  to  day 
and  week  to  week. 

It  was  work  which  he  was  not  used  to — this  hold 
ing  the  handles  of  a  plow  ;  something  he  had  never 


THE   HOME    BUILDERS.  175 

done  since  he  was  a  boy,  and  then  only  a  little  while 
at  a  time  to  satisfy  his  boyish  ambition  to  do  a  man's 
work. 

At  first  it  seemed  hard  and  slow  work,  tramping 
back  and  forth,  turning  one  furrow  at  a  time  across  a 
whole  quarter-section.  Used  as  he  was  to  hard  life, 
this  work  tired  him.  It  made  his  legs  ache  and  grow 
weary. 

He  compared  it  in  his  own  mind  to  going  up  the 
trail  with  a  herd  of  long-horn  steers,  and  he  felt  in 
clined  to  give  the  preference  to  the  herding.  There 
was  a  bit  of  excitement  there,  or  at  least  one  did  not 
know  what  moment  there  might  be,  but  there  was  no 
probability  of  getting  excited  just  following  a  pair  of 
mules  back  and  forth  from  day  to  day  haftging  on  to  the 
handles  of  a  plow. 

But  then  he  was  building  a  home. 

Every  furrow  turned  was  a  step  in  the  direction  in 
which  lay  the  happiness  he  had  begun  to  thirst  for. 

As  furrow  was  added  to  furrow,  and  the  black  strip 
running  across  the  east  end  of  his  claim  widened,  he  be 
gan  to  take  an  interest  in  widening  it  still  more.  Every 
furrow  turned  was  so  much  toward  the  home  he  was 
beginning  to  long  for. 

Each  week  he  could  see  the  long  ribbon  of  black 
widen.  At  first  a  line  which  one  could  hardly  follow 
with  the  eye  across  the  claim,  then  a  narrow  trail,  then 


176         SOME  LONG  BLACK  FURROWS. 

a  road,  then  a  broad  band  of  black  reaching  from  side 
to  side  across  the  quarter-section  lay  ready  to  receive 
the  seed. 

And  then  came  the  seeding,  the  grain  having  been 
brought  with  them  in  wagons  from  Kansas. 

The  belts  of  black  crossing  the  prairies  on  every 
claim  would  have  been  broader  in  most  cases  had  the 
supply  of  seed  been  greater  ;  but,  as  it  was,  enough  was 
sown  to  make  certain  of  a  sufficient  crop  to  sustain  the 
colonists  and  supply  an  abundance  of  seed  for  another 
year. 

One  thing  the  colonists  saw  plainly  enough  ;  as  soon 
as  their  grain  came  up  they  would  be  compelled  to 
guard  it  against  being  ravished  by  cattle,  of  which  there 
were  large  herds  in  the  vicinity. 

Occasionally  the  cowboys  herding  the  cattle  came 
to  the  settlement  and  chatted  for  a  time  with  such 
of  the  colonists  as  they  met  or  chose  to  visit  at  their 
houses. 

Among  the  cabins  in  front  of  which  their  ponies 
were  most  frequently  to  be  seen  lariated  were,  naturally 
enough,  those  in  which  resided  young  women  of  marriage 
able  ages  ;  for  your  cowboy  is  not  unlike  other  men,  and 
the  quickest,  if  not  the  only,  way  in  which  to  convert 
him  from  his  attachment  to  his  wild  life  is  to  introduce 
him  to  a  number  of  prepossessing  girls,  and  allow  him 


FRIENDLY  COWBOYS.  177 

to  visit  them  at  their  homes,  where  he  can  get  a  glimpse, 
however  small,  of  the  comforts  of  domestic  life. 

Another  cabin  where  cowboys  were  frequently  seen 
was  that  of  the  Joneses. 

Phil  having  retained  sufficient  interest  in  the  old 
life  to  make  him  a  pleasant  companion  to  those  who 
still  followed  it,  friendly  visits  and  an  occasional  meal 
eaten  in  company,  either  at  the  Jones  cabin  or  at  the 
camp  of  the  herders,  were  natural  and  pleasant  to  all 
concerned. 

Several  times  some  of  the  cowboys  hinted  some 
thing  to  Phil  to  the  effect  that  the  settlement  was  not 
looked  upon  with  friendly  eyes  by  the  owners  of  the 
large  herds  of  cattle,  but  to  this  Phil  gave  very  little 
thought  or  attention. 

He  understood  easily  enough  how  men  with  large 
herds  would  not  be  greatly  pleased  to  see  others  coming 
in  and  appropriating  any  of  the  range  they  were  ac 
customed  to  herd  over,  be  it  ever  so  little,  but  then  htf 
could  not  help  that. 

This  was  government  land,  and  as  such  any  citizen 
had  a  right  to  make  a  home  upon  it,  and  eventually 
to  receive  a  deed  to  16o  acres  which  he  should  have 
improved. 

He  intended  buying  a  few  cattle  himself  as  soon 
as  he  got  his  claim  fairly  opened.  He  had  $700  yet 
on  deposit  in  a  bank  back  in  Kansas,  which  he  meant  to  * 


1/8  WHAT   CAN   THAT   BE? 

invest  in  that  way,  and  let  them  be  growing  into  a 
fortune  while  he  continued  to  work  his  claim.  It  would 
only  take  a  few  years — "just  two  or  three,"  he  told  him 
self — to  put  him  in  good  shape  with  a  good  farm  and  a 
nice  bunch  of  cattle. 

And  so  everybody  worked  and  planned  and  hoped. 

On  Sundays  and  occasionally  during  week  days,  they 
met  in  a  tent  belonging  to  the  leader  of  the  colony,  or 
in  front  of  it,  to  hold  religious  exercises,  or  talk  over 
their  plans  and  prospects  for  the  future. 

They  were  as  enthusiastic  as  ever  over  the  situation. 

The  country  was  all  they  had  pictured  it ;  the  cli 
mate  delightful,  the  soil  rich,  and  they,  the  pioneers, 
the  men  and  women  who,  when  the  country  became 
thickly  settled — as  it  very  speedily  would  be,  now  that 
a  settlement  was  started — would  be  pointed  out  by 
everybody  and  honored  as  the  first  to  come  ;  in  fact,  the 
founders  of  a  new  State,  one  of  the  greatest  in  the 
Union. 

One  day,  as  a  number  of  them  sat  thus,  in  and 
around  "headquarters,"  as  it  was  called,  a  long  line  of 
something — was  it  cattle  or  men  ? — was  noticed  in  the 
distance. 

"Reckon  it's  a  fresh  herd  goin'  up  the  trail,"  said 
one,  and  no  further  attention  was  paid  to  it  for  a  mo 
ment.  Herds  going  up  the  trail  were  no  new  sight  to 


"THAT'S  NO  DRIVE."  179 

any  person  in  that  camp,  and  therefore  did  not  provoke 
any  special  interest  or  comment. 

"That's  no  drive,"  spoke  up  another,  a  few  moments 
later. 

"Look  there,  Cap  !  Hang  me  if  I  don't  believe 
that's  a  company  of  regulars.  Wonder,  now,  if  there's 
goin'  to  be  trouble  with  the  Indians.  If  there  is,  we 
ought  to  be  keepin'  the  women  and  children  pretty 
close,  and  ourselves  well  armed,  so  's  to  not  let  'em  get 
in  on  us  unawares." 

As  it  continued  to  approach,  the  fact  that  it  was  a 
company  of  mounted  soldiers  riding  in  ranks  became 
apparent  to  all,  and  as  they  were  evidently  coming 
toward  "headquarters,"  all  were  agape  with  curiosity  to 
know  the  cause  of  their  visit,  and  if  there  was  really 
any  danger  to  be  apprehended  from  the  Indians. 

At  last  the  soldiers  arrived  in  front  of  the  hut  and 
halted. 

"Where  is  the  person  in  command  of  this  party?" 
asked  the  officer  at  the  head  of  the  troops. 

"Wall,  now,"  responded  one  ot  the  settlers  who  hap 
pened  to  stand  nearest  the  officer,  and  was  eyeing  the 
company  of  regulars  with  considerable  interest  and 
attention.  "Wall,  now,  thar  aint  exactly  anybody  in 
command  here — leastwise,  nobody  entitled  to  boss  any 
body — but  that  there  man  over  there  is  our  leader  what 


l8O  ARRESTED  FOR  TREASON. 

piloted  us  in  here  and  is  kind  of  a  president  or  gineral 
manager  like." 

At  this  instant  the  '  'general  manager"  stepped  to  the 
front. 

"Did  you  wish  to  see  me  ?"  he  asked. 

"Yes,"  returned  the  lieutenant,  "and  not  only  you, 
but  all  the  members  of  your  company.  I  have  orders  to 
arrest  you  for  treason  and  conspiracy  against  the  gov 
ernment,  and  to  remove  your  families  from  out  the  ter 
ritory.  " 

Then,  turning  to  his  men  : 

"You,  Sergeant  and  Corporal,  take  each  twenty-five 
men  and  go  and  bring  in  the  other  members  of  the  com 
pany,  together  with  their  families.  I  will  remain  here 
with  the  rest  of  the  troops  and  guard  these  prisoners."" 


ARRESTED. 


CHAPTER  XII. 

TAKEN    TO    PRISON. 

«' Arrested  for  treason?  How?  What?  I  don't 
understand !" 

« 'Colony  broken  up !" 

* 'Officer  must  be  drunk  !" 

"Will  they  take  us  to  prison?" 

"What  does  it  all  mean,  anyhow?" 

"Must  be  trying  to  scare  us  for  a  joke  !" 

Such  were  the  exclamations  of  one  and  another  as 
they  heard  the  order  for  the  arrest  '  'for  treason  and  con 
spiracy"  of  every  member  of  the  colony. 

But  there  was  no  joke  about  it. 

It  was  a  sober  fact,  as  they  very  soon  learned. 

Those  present  at  headquarters  were  not  permitted  to 
return  to  their  homes  and  families,  but  were  kept  under 
close  guard  and  threatened  with  being  shot  down  if  they 
made  any  attempt  at  escape. 

The  squads  of  soldiers  sent   out  by  the  lieutenant 


I$2  DRIVEN   LIKE  SHEEP  TO  MARKET. 

in  command  proceeded  to  the  different  claims,  arrested 
such  of  the  men  as  were  not  already  under  arrest, 
and  peremptorily  ordered  them  to  hitch  their  teams  to 
their  wagons,  and  at  the  point  of  the  bayonet  com 
pelled  them  to  load  up  their  household  goods  and  drive 
to  headquarters. 

The  women  and  children  were  either  hustled  in  with 
the  household  goods,  or  were  driven  like  so  many  sheep 
behind  the  wagons. 

The  cries  and  screams  of  the  children  and  the  tears 
and  pleadings  of  the  women  were  alike  unheeded,  while 
the  curses  and  threats  of  the  men  were  answered  with 
orders  to  "dry  up"  or  take  what  would  follow  noncom- 
pliance. 

Phil  was  at  work  on  his  claim  when  the  troops  halted 
in  front  of  the  headquarters. 

His  claim  was  nearly  a  mile  away,  and  he  could  see 
little  of  what  was  going  on  and  had  no  idea  of  anything 
serious  happening.  But,  chancing  to  glance  that  way, 
he  saw  there  was  a  commotion  of  some  kind.  Recog 
nizing  the  presence  of  a  body  of  horsemen,  he  supposed 
it  to  be  a  company  of  cattlemen  and  cowboys  on  a  hunt 
for  horse  thieves  or  estray  cattle,  and  so  gave  it  no  fur 
ther  attention  until  he  saw  a  squad  of  cavalry  coming 
toward  him. 

"I  wonder  what  's  up  now?"  he  queried  mentally, 
"Cowboys  and  Indians  been  having  some  trouble,  1  sup- 


PHIL  DOES   AS   PUTNAM   DID.  183 

pose.  Wonder  if  they  think  any  of  the  settlers  were 
mixed  up  in  it  any  way.5' 

He  saw  them  halt  in  front  of  the  Jones  cabin  and 
converse  a  moment  apparently  among  themselves,  and 
then  a  portion  of  them  dismounted,  while  the  others 
rode  on  in  the  direction  of  where  Mr.  Jones  was  at  work 
plowing,  not  very  far  to  the  right  of  where  Phil  himself 
was  at  work. 

A  moment  later  he  heard  screams  issuing  from  the 
cabin,  and  saw  Jones  drop  his  lines  and  run  toward  the 
house,  and  instantly  he  began  stripping  the  harness  from 
his  own  animals. 

Springing  upon  the  back  of  one  of  them,  he  dashed 
away  across  the  plowed  ground  in  the  direction  of  the 
Jones  caur!n,  leaving  the  other  animal  loose  and  running 
wild. 

Phil  n3.dv  as  yet,  no  clear  idea  of  what  was  happen 
ing,  but  hearing  the  screams  and  seeing  Mr.  Jones  on  the 
run,  he  knew,  of  course,  that  something  was  wrong,  and 
was  hastening  to  the  assistance  of  his  friends.  He  had 
a  confused  idea  that  the  soldiers  must  be  drunk,  and 
might  be  committing  he  knew  not  what  kind  of  an  out 
rage  upon  the  family.  But  these  misgivings  only  accele 
rated  his  speed  to  the  rescue, 

Coming  on  at  full  speed,  he  rapidly  neared  the  little 
cabin,  and  was  within  a  few  rods  of  it  before  the  soldiers 
had  noticed  his  approach,  Then  they  leveled  their 


1 84  "HALT  AND  SURRENDER  P 

weapons  at  the  undaunted  but  astonished  " boomer," 
and  gave  the  order : 

"  Halt  and  surrender  !" 

He  did  not  halt,  however,  but  rode  on  and  up  to  the 
cabin  at  a  gallop.  Springing  from  his  animal,  he  was 
instantly  seized  by  as  many  soldiers  as  could  lay  hands 
upon  him. 

Phil's  first  impulse  was  to  resist,  and  indeed  he  had 
already  nerved  himself  for  a  struggle,  when,  seeing  both 
Mrs.  and  Mr.  Jones  standing  together  just  within  the 
cabin  door  apparently  unharmed,  he  refrained  from 
struggling. 

"What  is  the  meaning  of  this  outrage?"  he  fiercely 
demanded.  * '  What  are  you  doing  here  ?  I  will  report 
you  to  your  superior  officers  and  have  you  all  court- 
martialed," 

Phil  thought  the  soldiers  were  drunk  and  engaged  in 
plundering,  and  he  was  wildly  indignant. 

But  they  laughed  at  his  threats,  and  began  pitching 
the  household  goods  out  of  the  cabin. 

For  a  moment  or  two  Phil  looked  on,  with  fast-rising 
anger,  at  what  he  regarded  as  wanton  destruction  of  his 
own  and  his  friends'  property. 

Mrs.  Jones  stood  with  her  face  buried  upon  her  hus 
band's  shoulder,  weeping,  only  raising  her  head  as,  every 
few  seconds,  some  piece  of  household  furniture  came 


AN    EXPLANATION   ASKED.  1 8$ 

tumbling  out  of  the  cabin,  propelled  by  the  hands  of  the 
men  in  uniform  within. 

At  last  Phil  turned  to  the  Sergeant,  who  appeared  to 
be  in  command,  and  asked,  as  calmly  as  he  could,  for  an 
explanation  of  this  strange  affair. 

"It  means,"  replied  the  Sergeant,  "that  we  have 
orders  to  arrest  every  member  of  the  colony  and  to  take 
them  out  of  Oklahoma.  That  's  all  I  know  about  it,  and 
that  's  all  I  can  tell  you." 

* '  But  what  for  ?  What  have  we  done  ?  I  do  not 
understand  it,"  persisted  Phil. 

The  Sergeant  retorted,  none  too  good-naturedly  :  "I 
tell  you  I  know  nothing  more  about  it  than  I  have  just 
told  you.  If  you  want  to  know  any  more,  ask  some  one 
who  is  better  informed." 

And  with  that  Phil  was  forced,  for  the  time,  to  con 
tent  himself. 

He  was  ordered  to  catch  his  other  mule,  and  then  to 
go  to  the  field  for  his  harness,  which  he  did,  being 
accompanied  by  two  of  the  soldiers,  who  told  him  that 
he  might  take  his  plow  if  he  liked.  But  this  Phil  chose 
not  to  do,  and  left  it  standing  in  the  furrow.  He  could 
not  believe  the  affair  was  anything  else  than  a  monstrous 
blunder  on  the  part  of  somebody,  but  he  had  not  the 
faintest  idea  of  the  identity  of  the  blunderer. 

When  he  had  returned  to  the  cabin  with  his  mules 
and  harness  Phil  was  ordered  to  hitch  to  his  wagon,  that 


1 86  A    SCENE    WORTHY    A    MASTER    ARTIST. 

stood  nearby,  and  then  was  sent,  together  with  Mr.  and 
Mrs.  Jones  and  their  wagon,  into  which  had  been  tossed 
their  household  goods,  under  guard  to  the  headquarters. 

Arriving  there,  they  found  that  already  many  others 
of  the  settlers  had  been  run  in,  together  with  their  fami 
lies  and  household  treasures,  and  that  more  were  arriving 
constantly. 

When  all  were  assembled  there  was  a  scene  worthy 
the  brush  of  a  master  artist. 

From  some  of  the  wagons  the  canvas  covers  had  been 
removed,  while  upon  others  they  remained  as  they  were 
when  the  colony  arrived  at  the  settlement,  and  into  these 
had  been  piled  household  goods  of  every  description 
owned  by  the  settlers.  Cook  stoves,  beds  and  bedding, 
chairs,  boxes  and  trunks — any  thing  and  every  thing- 
thrown  in  as  they  came  to  hand,  without  regard  to  order, 
economy  of  space  or  possible  damage  to  the  goods. 

Seated  upon  these  piles  of  goods,  or  standing  about 
the  wagons  in  groups,  were  the  women  and  children — 
the  former  crying  and  talking  in  one  breath,  and  all  to 
gether  ;  the  children  clinging  to  their  mothers'  skirts  and 
asking  to  know  what  it  all  meant  ;  the  women  asking  the 
same  question  of  one  another,  and  each  of  all. 

Silent  and  sullen,  some  of  the  men  stood  with  hard- 
clenched  fists,  and  eyes  which  h&d  a  dangerous  light  in 
them,  while  others  were  moving  about  among  comrades, 
lettering  denunciations  of  what  they  termed  an  unparal- 


WHO  'S    A    TRAITOR  ?  1 87 

leled  outrage  by  the  army  of  the  United  States  on  peace 
ful  citizens,  and  demanding  that  they  be  at  once  set  at 
liberty. 

Finally  the  leader  of  the  colonists  obtained  permis 
sion  from  the  officer  in  command  of  the  soldiers  to  talk 
to  the  settlers.  Mounting  a  wagon  and  calling  them 
about  him,  he  explained,  as  well  as  he  could,  the  situa 
tion. 

"  You  have  all  been  arrested  for  trespass,"  he  said, 
"and  in  addition  charges  of  treason  and  conspiracy  are 
made  against  myself  and  a  few  others.  This  much  I  have 
learned  from  the  officer  here  in  command  of  the  troops." 

"  Who  's  a  traitor?" 

' '  Who  's  trespassing  ?" 

4t  I  sp2r.t  four  long  years  helping  to  put  down  trea 
son  against  the  government." 

' '  What  right  has  the  regular  army  to  arrest  peaceful 
citizens,  anyway,  I'd  like  to  know  ?" 

Such  were  the  expressions  that  came  in  reply  from 
one  and  another  of ,  the  excited  and  angry  men,  as  with 
upturned  faces  they  pushed  and  crowded  close  about  the 
wagcn  from  which  their  leader  was  striving  to  address 
them. 

' '  No  one  has  committed  any  trespass  in  settling  here, 
and  no  one,  1  am  sure,  is  guilty  of  treason  or  conspiracy 
against  the  government.  On  the  contrary,  many  among 
as  gave  some  of  the  best  years  of  our  lives  to  upholding 


1 88          SOMEBODY  HAS  BLUNDERED. 

the  old  flag  and  putting  down  rebellion,  and  it  is  an  out 
rage  almost  beyond  endurance  that  we  be  accused  of 
treason  against  the  government  we  fought  so  long  and 
so  hard  to  maintain.  It  is  an  outrage,  too,  that  we  are 
being  driven  from  our  homes  ;  but  I  can  not  think  it  i? 
other  than  the  result  of  a  blunder,  and  that  it  will  nof 
be  made  right  in  time. 

"  From  what  I  can  learn  from  the  officer  here,  it  ha? 
been  represented  to  the  government  at  Washington  thaf 
we  are  upon  land  belonging  to  the  Indians — therefore, 
trespassers.  If  such  were  really  the  case,  it  would  be 
the  duty  of  the  government  to  protect  the  Indians  in 
their  rights  ;  but  such,  we  know,  is  not  the  case,  and 
hence  we  can  only  conclude  that  somebody  has  made  a 
most  grievous  blunder. 

"  That  this  somebody  ought  to  be  held  responsible 
for  the  blunder  is  true,  of  course,  and  no  doubt  he  will 
be  ;  but  the  fact  that  we  know  them  to  be  mistaken  in 
supposing  us  to  be  trespassers  will  not  excuse  these 
officers  and  soldiers  from  obeying  their  orders,  which  are 
to  convey  us  all  out  of  the  Territory.  We  must,  there 
fore,  submit  quietly  to  the  orders  of  the  government, 
trusting  and  believing  that  when  the  truth  comes  to  be 
made  known  at  Washington  we  shall  be  exonerated  from 
all  blame,  and  reparation  for  our  trouble  and  losses 
made  to  us. 

1 '  I  urge,  therefore,  that  each  of  you  bear  this  hard- 


THE    MEN    ARE    PACIFIED.  189 

ship  as  courageously  and  uncomplainingly  as  possible, 
and  that  you  be  not  down-hearted.  Every  thing  can, 
perhaps,  be  explained  and  set  right  as  soon  as  we  reach 
Fort  Reno,  whither,  I  am  told,  we  are  to  be  conveyed. 
If  not,  then  we  will  appeal  direct  to  the  government  at 
Washington. " 

He  further  told  them  that  the  officers  would  permit 
them  to  unload  and  repack  their  goods  in  their  wagons, 
so  as  to  prevent  unnecessary  breakage  or  serious  dam 
age  of  any  kind,  and  enable  them  to  make  such  arrange 
ments  as  were  possible  for  the  comfort  of  the  women 
and  children  on  the  journey,  and  closed  his  remarks  by 
expressing  the  hope  that  thirty  days  hence  would  see 
them  all  back  again  working  upon  their  claims. 

A  cheer  went  up  when  he  said  this.  And,  thus  paci 
fied  and  encouraged,  they  became,  in  a  measure,  recon 
ciled,  and  began  at  once  the  work  of  repacking  their 
wagons  and  making  such  arrangements  for  the  comfort 
of  their  families  as  the  circumstances  would  admit. 

There  were  still  to  be  heard  mutterings  of  anger  and 
threats  of  revenge  to  be  taken  upon  the  author  of  their 
woes,  whoever  he  might  prove  to  be,  when  they  should 
have  discovered  who  he  was  ;  but  the  deportees  no  longer 
felt  any  particular  resentment  toward  the  soldiers,  whom 
they  regarded  as  being  but  tools  in  the  hands  of  others, 
compelled  by  military  law  to  obey  orders  without  asking 
any  question  as  to  the  right  or  wrong  involved  in  the 


190  A    JOHNNY    REB. 

matter.  After  having  gotten  their  goods  in  proper  shape 
for  hauling  and  eaten  a  meal  prepared  on  the  spot  by  the 
women  with  such  facilities  as  they  could  muster,  they 
even  began  to  feel  cheerful  and  to  crack  jokes  about  the 
wiatter. 

''Here,  you  Johnny  Reb  !"  called  oiie  to  another— 
an  old  army  comrade.  "You  climb  down  out  of  that 
wagon  and  let  that  chuck  be,  B«in'  as  you  're  a  rebel 
and  a  prisoner,  we  will  have  to  put  you  on  short  rations, 
I  reckon." 

"Glad  you  did  n't  mention  the  matter  earlier,"  the 
other  replied.  "I've  just  got  away  with  a  pound  of 
jerked  venison  and  three  big  potatoes,  so  I  can  stand 
short  rations  for  a  spell — till  next  meal,  any  way." 

••How  the  sweet  potatoes  even 

Started  from  the  ground — 
As  we  went  marching  through  Georgia." 

Thus  sang  one — evidently  in  memory  of  old  army 
times.  Then  a  half-dozen  struck  in  on  the  chorus : 

M  Hurrah  1     Hurrah  !    We  bring  the  jubilee. 

Hurrah  I     Hurrah  for  the  flag  that  makes  you  free ! 
So  we  sang  the  chorus  from  Atlanta  to  the  sea — 
As  we  went  marching  through  Georgia." 

4H — 11  of  a  jubilee  we  Ve  got,"  called  out  one  more 
'surly  than  the  rest,  yet  himself  beginning  to  feel  the  mel 
lowing  influences  about  him. 

"Wonder  how  the  Cap'n  will  look  with  f  rope  about 


BANKED    ON    HIS    BEAUTY. 

his  neck,  any  way.  Be  kind  of  a  surprise  to  the  old 
man  to  be  hanged  for  treason,  I  reckon."  This  was 
ventured  by  a  man  between  bites,  as  he  stood  with  a 
piece  of  corn  bread  in  one  hand  and  some  cold  meat  in 
the  other.  And  then  others  chimed  in  : 

"'Spect  they  '11  turn  Cap  loose  with  four  rods  start, 
and  then  run  him  down  and  lasso  him." 

' '  Bet  he  leads  'em  a  good  long  race  if  they  do.  The 
Cap  's  mighty  lively  on  his  pins." 

' '  You  fellows  better  be  sayin'  prayers  for  your  own 
selves.  You  're  just  as  likely  to  be  called  on  to  furnish 
the  entertainment  at  a  foot  race  or  a  hanging  bee  as  the 
Cap  is.'' 

* «  And  how  about  yourself  ?" 

''Oh,  they  '11  let  me  off  on  account  of  my  good 
looks.  They  would  n't  hang  the  best-looking  man  in  the 
Territory,  no  way  it  could  be  fixed — so  I  am  perfectly 
safe,  you  see." 

This  last,  from  the  champion  homely  man  in  the  col 
ony,  was  regarded  as  a  good  joke  by  everybody,  and  all 
laughed  heartily.  This  raised  the  spirits  of  even  the 
surliest  several  degrees,  and  a  feeling  of  comparative 
cheerfulness  took  possession  of  the  little  company. 

The  cavalcade  had  now  formed  in  line,  and  the  ' '  ex 
traordinary  march  was  begun." 

The  Lieutenant  led  the  way  with  a  portion  of  the 
troops,  while  the  rear  was  brought  up  by  the  others  of 


TAIL  OKLAHOMA! 

his  company  of  deporters,  under  the  command  oi  an 
orderly. 

The  colonists  were  not  permitted  to  carry  their  arms, 
which  were  all  stacked  into  one  of  the  wagons  and  then 
guarded  by  two  of  the  regulars,  who  tied  their  horses 
behind  the  wagon,  while  they  themselves  rode  inside 
with  the  property  in  their  charge. 

Thus  guarded,  the  company  proceeded  on  its  way  in 
the  direction  of  Fort  Reno,  and  at  dusk  camped  upon 
the  open  prairie  and  spent  the  night  in  their  wagons  or 
upon  the  ground,  guarded  by  sentries  regularly  stationed 
about  the  camp,  and  as  regularly  changed  every  two 
hours. 

Fort  Reno  lay  west  and  a  little  north  of  the  settle 
ment  and  just  within  the  edge  of  the  Cheyenne  and 
Arapahoe  Reservation,  and  a  weary-dreary  way  the  un 
happy  colonists  found  it.  Especially  did  the  women  and 
children  suffer,  as  they  were  allowed  few  privileges,  and 
rode  hour  after  hour  all  the  days  through,  cramped  up 
in  their  seats  in  the  wagons,  by  the  side  of  which  the 
men  were  sometimes  allowed  to  march,  while  their 
wives  or  some  of  the  older  children  drove,  but  from 
which  they  were  not  allowed  to  stray,  for  any  purpose 
whatever,  beyond  the  reach  of  the  carbines  of  the  ever 
watchful  guards. 

Arrived  at  Fort  Reno,  they  were  turned  over  by  the 
Lieutenant  who  had  been  in  command  of  the  company 


CONSIGNED    TO   PRISON.  193 

which  arrested  them  to  the  authorities  at  the  fort,  the 
commandant  of  which  proceeded  to  question  the  leading 
men  among  them  as  to  their  purpose  in  settling  within 
the  borders  of  Oklahoma. 

They,  each  and  all,  replied  that  their  purpose  was  to 
make  for  themselves  homes  upon  land  belonging  to  the 
government  of  the  United  States,  in  accordance  with 
the  law  giving  to  each  head  of  a  family  who  would  settle 
upon  and  improve  it  16o  acres  of  land.  They  were  told 
in  reply  that  the  land  in  question — that  is,  Oklahoma — 
belonged  to  the  Indians,  and  had  been  leased  by  them 
to  certain  men  for  grazing  purposes,  and  that,  while  the 
government  had  no  interest  in  the  lessors,  it  was  bound 
to  protect  the  Indians  in  their  rights,  and  that  it  was  for 
this  purpose  that  the  settlers  had  been  sought  out  and 
placed  under  arrest. 

Replying  for  them,  their  leader  denied  that  the  land 
in  dispute  belonged  to  the  Indians,  and  offered  to  show 
that  it  was  the  property  of  the  United  States  under  a 
treaty  which  had  been  made  in  1866,  but  he  was  not 
permitted  to  do  so. 

He  then  demanded  an  immediate  trial  for  himself 
and  his  companions;  but  this,  too,  was  denied  them. 
Capt.  Paine  and  four  others — of  whom  Phil  Johnson  was 
one — were  confined  in  cells  connected  with  the  barracks, 
while  the  rest  of  the  men,  together  with  the  women  and 
children,  were  held  under  guard  outside. 


194  THE  LEADER'S  QUERY. 

The  five  men  were  kept  thus  confined  for  five  days, 
and  were  then  released.  They  and  those  who  had  been 
kept  under  guard  outside  were  ordered  to  hitch  their 
teams  to  their  wagons.  When  this  was  done,  the  women 
and  children  were  told  to  "climb  in,"  and  the  whole 
company,  still  under  guard,  moved  off  in  the  direction  of 
the  Kansas  State  line. 

Another  weary  jaunt  of  nearly  four  days,  and  then 
they  were  halted  on  Kansas  soil,  drawn  up  in  line  and 
told  that  they  were  at  liberty,  but  that  they  must  not 
return  to  Oklahoma  on  pain  of  more  severe  treatment 
the  next  time,  if  they  did  so. 


"What  shall  we  do,  men?" 

The  leader  of  the  Oklahoma  colonists  was  the  que 
rist,  and  his  words  were  addressed  to  the  members  of 
the  colony  as  they  stood  where  the  regulars  had  left  them 
— gazing  first  at  the  retreating  troops  and  then  up  at  the 
faces  of  their  wives  and  children,  peering  from  beneath 
their  wagon  covers  with  looks  of  mingled  hope  and 
anxiety. 

"What  shall  we  do,  men  ?" 

For  some  seconds  there  was  no  response,  and  then  a 


PHIL'S    READY    ANSWER.  195 

voice  from  down  near  the  end  of  the  line  called  out  with 
a  ringing  clearness : 

"  Move  we  strike  straight  back  for  Oklahoma  and  our 
claims." 

Phil  Johnson  had  spoken.  Instantly  came  back  the 
response  from  the  other  end  of  the  line  : 

"I  second  the  motion." 

An  enthusiast  sang  out : 

'  *  That  's  the  way  to  talk  it !  I  'm  with  you  every 
vime.  Hip,  hip !  Hurrah !  Hurrah !  Hurrah !  Phil 
Johnson  's  all  right !" 

This  was  taken  up  by  others,  and  for  several  minutes 
the  prairie  rang  with  the  cheers  of  the  men,  with  which 
were  mingled  the  shriller  voices  of  the  more  courageous 
of  the  women  and  the  piping  tones  of  several  brave 
children. 

But,  with  the  sober  second  thought  came  a  sense  of 
what  they  had  lost,  and  how  illy  they  were  prepared  to 
make  the  return  journey  at  once  ana  without  recruiting 
their  stock  of  provisions. 

What  little  store  they  had  on  hand  when  the  army 
swooped  down  upon  them  had  been  eaten  or  destroyed 
since  that  time.  If  they  returned  now  without  providing 
themselves  with  more,  it  would  be  necessary  for  them  to 
depend  entirely  upon  game  for  subsistence,  not  only  dur 
ing  the  journey,  but  for  an  indefinite  period  after  they 
reached  their  claims.  Their  growing  crops  would  most 


STOPPING    TO    THINK. 

likely  be  found  trampled  down  and  destroyed  by  the 
herds  of  the  big  cattle  men. 

All  things  considered  as  they  were,  the  advisability  of 
delay  was  at  least  debatable. 

Finally  they  decided  to  go  into  camp  on  the  spot  and 
talk  the  matter  over  after  supper. 


THE  COUNCIL. 


CHAPTER  XIII. 


GATHERED   ABOUT   THE    COUNCIL   FIRE   TO   PLAN   FOR   THE 
FUTURE — AN    UNEXPECTED    MEETING. 

After  supper  the  men  gathered  around  the  camp  fire 
of  their  leader,  prepared  to  discuss  the  situation  and 
decide  upon  their  future  course. 

Some  sat  on  the  ground  and  some  on  chunks  of  wood; 
some  made  seats  of  their  feed  boxes;  two  or  three  leaned 
against  the  nearest  wagon,  while  still  others  threw  them 
selves  at  full  length  upon  the  ground.  Nearly  all  lit 
pipes  and  smoked  as  they  talked  or  listened  to  what  the 
others  had  to  say. 

And  as  they  talked  one  grew  angry  at  the  wrong  done 
them,  and  raised  his  voice  in  wrathful  denunciation  of 
all  who  were  in  any  way  responsible  for  the  outrage  per 
petrated  upon  them. 

Then  the  women  came  and  formed  a  circle  back  of 
the  men  and  watched  and  listened.  And  the  children 

(197) 


198  ABOUT   THE    COUNCIL    FIRE. 

came  and  clung  to  their  mothers'  skirts  and  listened  and 
watched  also. 

The  camp  fire  flared  with  the  night  breeze.  Back 
and  forth  it  waved — red  one  moment  and  the  next  took 
on  a  bluish  tint.  Long,  pointed  tongues  of  flame  leapt 
up  and  lapped  out,  as  if  in  search  of  something  to  feed 
upon,  and,  finding  only  the  darkness,  bit  at  it  and  sank 
down  again. 

Some  one  drew  forth  a  brand  and  tossed  it  farther 
into  the  flame,  causing  a  shower  of  sparks  to  rise;  these 
snapped  and  crackled  and  darted  hither  and  yon  for  an 
instant,  and  then  went  out. 

A  wolf  away  out  on  the  prairie  sent  forth  a  dismal 
howl,  and  another  wolf  answered  from  the  opposite  side 
of  the  camp. 

Then  one  man"  arose  and  passed  out  through  the 
/  circle,  and  went  to  see  if  any  of  the  tethered  animals  had 
become  tangled  in  their  ropes.  Finding  none  such,  he 
returned  and  resumed  his  former  place. 

Meanwhile  the  women  and  children  kept  their  posi 
tions  at  the  back  of  the  circle,  and  the  men  talked  and 
planned. 

But  these  were  not  men  of  many  words  and  slow  to 
reach  a  conclusion.  A  little  thought,  a  little  exchange 
of  opinion,  and  their  course  was  decided  upon.  They 
would  halt  for  a  few  days  where^they  were.  There  were 
water  and  feed  at  hand,  and  they  would  camp  at  that 


APPEAL  TO   THE   PRESIDENT.  199 

spot.  Leaving  their  families  with  proper  protection,  a 
portion  would  go  to  the  nearest  settlement  and  procure 
needed  supplies,  while  their  leader,  with  one  or  two 
others,  should  make  an  effort  to  place  the  whole  matter 
— the  fact  of  their  right  to  make  homes  upon  the  spot 
which  they  had  selected,  and  the  wrong  and  indignity 
which  had  been  done  them — before  the  proper  authority, 
so  that  they  might  not  be  again  disturbed;  and  then  they 
would  return  and  begin  anew  the  work  of  improving 
their  claims. 

Accordingly,  the  next  morning  certain  of  the  wagons 
were  unloaded  of  household  goods,  and  the  owners  put 
their  teams  to  them  and  started  out  for  the  purpose  of 
purchasing  supplies.  The  leader,  with  Phil  Johnson  and 
one  other,  mounted  and  rode  away  to  perform  the  mis 
sion  assigned  them. 

The  next  day,  about  noon,  the  three  appeared  before 
the  judge  of  a  court  in  one  of  the  border  counties,  and 
wrote  out  and  made  oath  to  the  facts  in  the  case  as  they 
believed  thorn  to  exist. 

First  calling  attention  to  the  fact  that  the  law  per 
mitted,  and  was  supposed  to  encourage,  the  settlement 
of  unoccupied  government  lands  for  the  purposes  of  cul 
tivation  and  occupai  cy,  they  cited  the  treaty  under 
which  Oklahoma  ha^  been  ceded  by  the  Indians  to  the 
government  of  the  Tnited  States,  and  followed  this  with 
a  detailed  account  c  f  the  manner  in  which  they  had  been 


2OO  "WHERE  FROM,    STRANGERS?" 

evicted  from  the  claims  which  they  were  occupying  in 
good  faith  under  the  law. 

Having  made  this  statement  in  duplicate,  they  next 
attached  their  signatures  and  made  oath  to  the  truth  of 
the  facts  therein  set  forth,  and  mailed  one  copy  of  it  to 
the  President  of  the  United  States  and  the  other  to  the 
Secretary  of  the  Interior,  at  Washington. 

This  done,  they  remounted  their  horses  and  started 
upon  their  return  journey. 

Late  in  the  afternoon,  while  riding  at  their  usual  gait 
— a  long,  swinging  gallop  or  lope — they  overtook  and 
were  passing  a  number  of  emigrant  wagons,  when  from 
one  of  the  wagons  there  came  an  inquiry  regarding  the 
distance  to  be  traveled  before  reaching  water  and  good 
:amping  ground.  Reining  in  their  horses,  they  gave  full 
answer  to  the  question.  Other  questions  naturally  fol 
lowed,  and  finally  one  of  the  emigrants  was  asked  : 

"What  part  of  the  country  might  you  come  from, 
strangers  ?" 

"Indiana." 

"What  part  of  Indiana?"  queried  Phil,  who  until 
now  had  taken  no  part  in  the  conversation. 

"From  down  on  the  Wabash — south  half  of  the 
State." 

Phil  spurred  his  nag  and  reined  him  close  up  to  the 
emigrant's  wagon.  Leaning  eagerly  forward,  he  peered 
into  the  face  of  the  man  who  was  driving.  He  was  an 


THE  M'KINLBYS.  *oi 

oldish  man  and  covered  with  the  dust  of  a  long  drive, 
yet  Phil  knew  him  now,  and  wondered  that  he  did  not 
know  him  the  instant  he  saw  him. 

There  was  just  the  faintest  suspicion  of  a  tremor  in 
Phil's  voice  when  °  spoke  again.  He  said  : 

''Mr.  McKinley,  I  reckon  you  don't  recognize  me. 
I  am  Phil  Johnson,  and  my  folks  used  to  live  neighbors 
to  you  years  ago,  when  I  was  a  boy. " 

Mr.  McKinley — for  he  it  was,  and  no  mistake — for  an 
instant  looked  at  him  without  speaking.  Then,  turning 
half-way  around  in  his  seat,  he  called  to  some  one  back 
in  the  wagon  : 

"  Here,  Net !  And  you,  Marm  !  Here  's  Phil  John 
son — him  they  used  to  call  the  three  P's.  Reckon  you 
remember  him,  both  of  ye." 

And  then  Phil — whose  heart  was  making  most  frantic 
efforts  to  escape  from  his  body,  first  by  way  of  his  throat, 
and,  failing  in  that,  by  knocking  a  hole  in  his  ribs — 
heard  a  rustling  within  the  covered  wagon,  saw  a  hand 
thrust  out  and  the  flap  of  the  wagon  cover  raised,  and 
heard  a  voice  saying : 

"  Is  it  really  you,  Philip?  Well,  who'd  a-thought 
of  running  against  you,  'way  out  here  in  this  wild  wil 
derness  ?" 

Such  was  Mrs.  McKinley's  greeting. 

Phil  wished  Nettie  had  been  the  speaker.  He  wished 
she  would  speak  now,  so  he  might  know  how  to  speak 


201          NEWS  FROM  THE  OLD  HOME. 

to  her,  for  suddenly  he  felt  that  he  did  not  know  how  to 
address  her  unless  she  first  spoke  to  him. 

But  in  spite  of  the  awful  throbbing  of  his  heart,  Phil 
managed  to  reply  to  Mrs.  McKinley,  telling  her  it  was  he 
and  no  other,  and  also  to  mumble  something  about  being 
glad  to  see  them. 

And  still  Nettie  had  not  spoken. 

Through  the  opening  made  by  the  upturned  flap,  he 
saw  a  portion  of  her  dress,  but  that  was  all.  Mrs.  Mc 
Kinley  filled  the  opening  with  her  own  person  pretty 
completely,  as  she  leaned  forward  and  talked  to  him. 

Mrs.  McKinley  was  a  good  talker  when  she  wished  to 
be.  And  just  now,  for  some  reason,  she  did  wish  to  be. 

Phil's  parents,  so  she  told  him,  were  still  living  on 
the  old  place,  and  were  well  when  she  left  there — some 
three  weeks  ago  last  Thursday. 

"They  thought  you  must  be  dead,  Philip — not  get 
ting  any  answer  to  their  letter." 

"Did  they  write?"  asked  Phil.  "  Did  they  get  my 
letter  ?" 

' '  They  got  the  one  you  sent  from  down  in  Texas 
somewhere — the  one  in  which  you  said  you  were  going 
to  Kansas  with  a  drove  of  cattle  for  somebody.  That  's 
the  only  letter  they  ever  got.  They  answered  that  one 
right  off,  for  they  were  awful  anxious  for  you  to  come 
home.  And  they  told  you  about  every  thing  and  every 
body — so  your  mother  told  me — and  urged  you  to  come 


"IS    THAT    NETTIE?"  20$ 

right  home  as  soon  as  you  got  their  letter.  And  then 
they  waited  and  waited,  but  heard  nothing  from  you  ; 
then  they  writ  again  several  times,  but  they  never  heard 
any  thing  more.  Ihey  thought  you  might  a-been  killed 
or  something,  'cause  they  never  heard  from  you  again. 
But  Nettie — she  did  say  she  knowed  you  was  n't  dead, 
and  that  you  'd  come  back  some  time,  shore." 

"  Is — is  that  Nettie  in  there  ?"  asked  Phil,  with  some 
trepidation,  when  Mrs.  McKinley  had  paused  to  take 
breath. 

'  *  Why,  Lor* — yes.  Nettie,  you  have  n't  spoken  to 
Philip  yet.  You  have  n't  forgotten  him,  have  you  ? 
Crawl  over  here  and  take  a  look  at  him ;  he  's  growed 
powerful." 

And  Mrs.  McKinley  took  her  daughter  by  the  shoulder 
and  drew  her  forward,  where  she  could  both  see  and  be 
seen.  She  said  : 

•'  How  do  you  do,   Mr.  Johnson  ?" 

To  save  his  soul,  Phil  could  only  answer : 

*'  I  'm  pretty  well.     How  do  you  do  ?" 

He  would  have  given  his  pony — and  Phil  thought  a 
^reat  deal  of  that  pony — to  be  able  to  say  something' 
more  and  to  say  it  better,  but  he  could  not.  He  had  been 
thinking  what  to  say  to  Nettie  all  the  time  her  mother 
was  talking  to  him,  trying  to  decide  whether  to  be  digni 
fied  and  lift  his  hat  and  say,  formally,  "  I  am  pleased  to 
meet  you  again,  Miss  McKinley,"  or  to  say  «'  Hello,  Net- 


204  PHIL  KICKS   HIMSELF — MENTALLY. 

tie, "  and  take  her  hand  and  squeeze  it  a  little,  and  thus 
re-establish  their  familiar  relations  at  once. 

And  here  he  had  only  said:  "I  'm  pretty  well. 
How  do  you  do  ?" 

It  seemed  so  ridiculously  idiotic,  he  told  himself  a 
minute  afterward,  that  if  his  pony  was  only  warranted  to 
kick  on  proper  occasions,  instead  of  improper  ones,  he 
would  get  right  down  then  and  there  and  ask  to  be  duly 
kicked. 

And  Nettie  said  never  another  word,  but  after  a  few 
moments  drew  back  from  the  opening,  and  left  Phil  with 
only  the  sight  of  her  skirts  to  console  him — the  same  as 
before  she  had  spoken. 

But  what  Nettie  lacked  in  conversational  powers  on 
that  occasion  her  mother  made  up  for.  The  moment 
Nettie  withdrew  her  head  from  the  opening  in  the  wagon 
cover  her  mother's  filled  the  space,  and  she  resumed  her 
narrative,  giving  him  items  of  news  from  the  old  neigh 
borhood  mingled  with  incidents  concerning  their  own 
family,  and  telling  why  they  had  left  the  old  home  to 
come  "  out  West." 

"The  ferry  is  still  there,"  she  told  him,  "but  mostly 
it  is  n't  used  any  more,  as  a  bridge  has  been  built  across 
the  river  only  a  half  mile  below. 

"That  was  the  reason  we  came  West — one  of  the 
reasons,  anyway — though  Nettie  was  alwavs  iir^png  us  to 
come. " 


MRS.  M'KINLEY  EXPLAINS  MATTERS.  205 

Here  Phil  pricked  up  his  ears  and  listened  with  all 
his  might. 

"You  see,  Nettie  has  n't  run  the  ferry  for  ever  so 
long.  She  was  up  to  Terre  Haute  to  school  three  win 
ters  ;  taught  in  the  old  school  house  in  the  summers  to 
get  money  to  pay  board  and  schooling  with. 

''But  she  did  n't  like  teaching  there,  where  every 
one  knew  her.  The  children  were  harder  to  manage, 
seemed  like,  'cause  they  all  knew  her  so  well,  and  so  she 
wanted  to  come  West  and  teach.  But  Mr.  McKinley 
would  n't  move  till  it  got  so  the  ferry  did  n't  pay  us  any 
more,  because  of  the  bridge.  Then  we  decided  that  we 
would  come. 

4  *  We 're  going  to  pre-empt  some  land  somewheres, 
and  as  soon  as  we  get  settled  like  we  're  going  to  try  and 
get  a  school  as  nearby  as  we  can  for  her  to  teach.  The 
other  girls  can  do  the  work,  you  see.  They  are  now  in 
Mr.  Sommers'  wagon,  on  ahead  there.  The  boys  are  in 
some  of  the  others'  wagons,  too. 

"But  you  have  n't  told  us  any  thing  about  yourself 
yet — where  you  're  living  and  what  you  're  up  to.  Driv 
ing  cattle  yet  ?" 

Phil  told  her  that  he  had  been  in  New  Mexico  for 
two  years,  and  since  that  he  had  been  in  Oklahoma, 
where  he  had  a  "  claim,"  and  that  he  was  about  to  return 
there. 

He  also  told  her  that  he  had  failed  to  get  his  dear 


2O6  PHIL   GROWS    ANXIOUS. 

mother's  letter,  and  had  not  known  what  to  think  at  not 
hearing  rrom  home  ;  that  he  feared  his  parents  were 
either  dead  or  had  moved  away,  and  that  had  he  known 
they  were  living  and  anxious  to  have  him  go  home  he 
would  have  done  so. 

He  was  desirous  of  talking  more  about  Oklahoma. 
He  wanted  to  suggest  that  Mr.  McKinley's  family  join 
the  colony  and  go  there  too,  but  he  some  way  could  not. 
He  thrilled  through  and  through  at  thoughts  of  having 
Nettie  near  him  again  ;  of  being  able  to  re-establish  the 
old  familiar  relations,  and  of  what  that  might  lead  to — 
later  on. 

But  the  meeting  had  been  so  sudden  and  unexpected, 
and  Nettie  had  seemed  so  cool  and  formal,  that  he  could 
say  nothing  except  in  reply  to  questions  from  Nettie's 
mother. 

He  kept  trying  hard  to  think  of  something  to  say  to 
Nettie,  but  he  could  not — or,  rather,  he  could  not  mus 
ter  the  courage  to  voice  his  thoughts.  His  failure  to  say 
any  thing  better  than  "I  'm  pretty  well ;  how  do  you 
do  ?"  when  she  spoke  to  him  first,  discouraged  him  from 
making  another  attempt. 

"  She  must  think  me  a  fool,  or  else  the  most  bashful 
man  alive,"  was  his  mental  comment.  "Confound  it 
all !  If  she  had  only  called  me  Phil,  now,  /nstead  of 
'Mr.  Johnson  !'  It  was  calling  me  'Mr.  Johnson*  that 
took  me  o#  my  feet — it  was  so  confoundedly  formal/' 


MR.  M'KINLEY  HAS  AN  IDEA.  207 

While  Mrs.  McKinley  was  thus  entertaining  Phil  her 
husband  was  talking  with  Phil's  companions,  who,  with- 
out  exactly  knowing  it,  were  doing  all  that  could  be  done 
to  induce  Mr.  McKinley  to  regard  Oklahoma  and  the 
spot  selected  by  the  colonists  as  the  most  desirable  plac<» 
in  the  world  for  him  to  locate  in. 

Nettie's  father  listened  attentively  to  the  description 
*  given  of  the  extent  and  fertility  of  the  prairies,  the 
abundance  of  timber  and  the  salubrity  of  the  climate. 
He  evinced  considerable  interest  in  the  statements  made 
with  regard  to  the  abundance  of  game,  but  it  was  at  the 
mention  of  fish  that  he  became  thoroughly  alive — alive 
all  over. 

Fish  meant  a  river ;  abundance  cf  fish  must  mean  a 
pretty  large  river,  and  a  large  river  meant 


1 '  Going  to  lay  out  a  town  there  ?"  queried  the  ex- 
ferryman. 

"  Yes.  Town  already  laid  out.  All  we  lack  now  is 
the  people." 


208  HEADED  RIGHT. 

' '  Going  to  be  a  pretty  good-sized  town,  I  s'pose  ? 
Lots  of  travel  back  and  forth  across  the  river  ?" 

*  *  Not  a  doubt  of  it.  Just  as  soon  as  it  becomes 
known  that  there  is  an  abundance  of  government  land 
there  people  will  rush  in  by  the  thousand,  and  the  coun 
try  will  settle  up  rapidly. " 

4 '  Be  a  pretty  good  place  for  a  ferry,  won't  it  ?" 

Phil  failed  to  catch  the  reply,  but   a   few   minutes   * 
later,  when  the  wagons  halted  for  the  night,  Mr.  McKin- 
ley  was  overheard  saying  to  his  wife  : 

"Marthy,  I  believe  Oklahoma  is  just  the  place  we 
were  looking  for." 

This  was  music  to  Phil's  ears.  He  said  to  himself  : 
"The  leader  is  headed  right." 


CHAPTER  XIV. 

PHIL   FEASTS     HIS     EYES — THE     M*KINLEYS    CONCLUDE  TO 
LOCATE   IN   OKLAHOMA. 

Phil  and  his  companions  went  into  camp  that  night 
with  the  emigrants  from  Indiana. 

To  have  induced  Phil  to  do  otherwise  would  have 
required  greater  persuasive  powers  than  his  companions 
possessed,  even  had  they  cared  to  exercise  such  powers, 
which  they  did  not ;  though  before  overtaking  the  travel 
ers  they  had  intended  to  go  five  miles  farther  before 
camping.  They  had  delayed  a  little  in  chatting  with  the 
emigrants,  and  it  was  now  fairly  late,  and  here  were 
water  and  fuel  and  all  things  needful  for  their  purposes; 
besides  which  there  was  a  prospect  of  inducing  these 
people  to  join  their  colony,  which  of  itself  furnished  in 
ducement  for  the  other  two  to  remain  in  communication 
with  the  emigrants. 

As  for  Phil  ?    Well,  if  asked  to  go  on,  the  odds  would 


2IO  NETTIE. 

have  been  a  thousand  to  one  that  he  would  have  declared 
his  pony  was  lame,  sore-backed  and  generally  done  for — 
in  fact,  could  not  travel  a  mile  farther. 

Maybe  a  suspicion  that  Phil  would  prove  obstinate  in 
the  matter  helped  to  move  his  companions  to  decide  it 
would  be  best  to  go  into  camp  with  the  emigrant  party. 
*This  is  not  known.  Be  this  as  it  may,  they  swung  them 
selves  from  their  saddles  the  moment  the  wagons  came 
to  a  halt,  and  prepared  to  stake  their  horses  out  and  to 
care  for  them. 

Phil's  pony  seemed  to  realize  that  his  master  was  in 
a  hurry  to  get  him  taken  care  of  that  night,  for  the  mo 
ment  Phil's  foot  was  out  of  the  stirrup  the  pony  made 
an  effort  to  remove  his  own  saddle  by  dropping  on  the 
ground  and  rolling.  And  when  he  was  compelled  to  get 
up  and  allow  it  to  be  taken  off  in  the  usual  way,  the  ani 
mal  refused  to  be  rubbed  down  in  a  manner  so  emphatic 
that  Phil  accepted  it  as  evidence  that  he  ought  not  to 
fool  away  any  time  on  that  kind  of  a  job.  Accordingly, 
he  tethered  him  out  without  rubbing  him  down,  and  then 
hurried  around  to  where  the  McKinleys  were  preparing 
supper. 

Nettie  was  stooping  over  a  fire  just  started  when  he 
approached,  but  arose  on  hearing  his  coming  footsteps. 

Then  it  was  that  Phil  noticed  how  tall  and  graceful 
she  had  grown  to  be.  He  had  not  seen  her  fully  before 
— not  even  her  face,  which  had  been  half  concealed  by 


BEAUTY  AND  GRACB.  211 

the  wagon  cover — but  now  he  saw  both  face  and  form 
fully  by  the  light  of  the  camp  fire,  and  he  felt  that  even 
his  imagination  had  utterly  failed  to  do  full  justice  to  her 
beauty. 

And  Nettie  McKrnley  was  beautiful.  She  possessed 
the  beauty  of  youth  and  innocence — yes,  and  intelli 
gence. 

To  her  natural  strength  of  mind,  inherited  from  her 
mother,  she  had  added  education.  Her  education  was 
not  extensive  and  broad,  it  is  true,  but  was  such  as  the 
schools  of  an  ambitious  and  thriving  little  city,  anxious 
to  keep  pace  with  the  world  in  educational  as  well  as 
other  matters,  could  furnish. 

From  her  father  she  had  inherited  the  dignity  which 
at  times  sat  upon  him  as  an  ill-fitting  garment,  but  which 
rested  on  her  with  a  naturalness  that  added  to  her  face 
and  form  an  expression  of  womanliness  and  goodness 
which  might  well  have  charmed  another  than  a  frontiers 
man  like  Phil,  who  had  known  little  of  women  and  less 
of  women  possessed  of  grace  both  oi  body  and  mind. 

True,  Nettie  exhibited  little  of  either  grace  or  dignity 
in  her  first  meeting  with  her  girlhood's  sweetheart,  after 
their  long  separation  ;  but  the  fact  must  be  borne  in 
mind  that  an  emigrant  wagon,  where  one  is  compelled 
for  lack  of  room  to  sit  in  a  position  that  is  more  or  less 
cramped,  is  not  the  most  favorable  place  for  the  exhibi 
tion  of  grace  and  dignity.  ^Besides,  the  meeting  was  so 


aid  JUST  THE  TWO. 

entirely  unexpected,  and  Phil  was — as  Mrs.  McKinley 
expressed  it — "growed  powerful,"  and  in  his  cowboy 
costume,  to  which  he  still  clung,  with  a  Winchester  rifle 
lying  across  his  lap,  looked  so  much  like  the  brigands  of 
whom  she  had  read  and  so  little  like  the  boy  in  patched 
clothes  and  straw  hat  who  used  to  help  her  run  the  ferry 
that  there  is  small  wonder  if  she  failed  of  making  as 
good  an  appearance  as  under  other  circumstances  she 
might  have  done. 

But  now  she  was  upon  the  ground,  where  graceful 
dignity  was  possible,  and  she  had  recovered  from  her  first 
surprised  start  at  the  meeting.  When,  on  rising  from  her 
stooping  position  in  front  of  the  little  camp  fire,  she  saw 
Phil  approaching  she  was  the  personification  of  grace 
and  dignity.  With  much  cordizJity  she  said  : 

'*  I  am  glad  you  and  your  friends  are  to  camp  with  us, 
Mr.  Johnson.  We  want  ve^y  much  to  hear  about  your 
adventures  since  you  left  the  old  neighborhood  ;  and  we 
can,  I  am  sure,  tell  you  much  that  will  interest  you  about 
your  father's  family  and  others  whom  you  used  to  know. " 

Phil  would  have  given  worlds  to  feel  that  he  could 
answer  with  equal  dignity  and  self-poise,  but  his  life  and 
vocation  had  not  been  such  as  to  givo  b:m  confidence  in 
the  presence  of  such  a  woman  az  he  felt  Nettie  to  be ; 
and,  besides,  there  kejf,t  corning  up  thoughts  of  that  last 
trip  which  they  h>  I  m&de  .together  on  the  ferry  boat  the 
afternoon  before  /**  &ifcU  in  which  he  ran  away  from 


THE    ICB    BROKEti.  SI 3 

home,  to  begin  &  life  of  perilous  wandering,  £hd  he  could 
not  feel  at  ease  because  of  it, 

Yet  Phil  Johnson  was  naturally  self-confident  and 
manly  ;  and  now  he  gathered  his  mental  forces  and  an 
swered,  with  some  stiffness  of  manner,  that  he  could  not 
think  of  going  on  without  first  learning  all  they  could  tell 
him  of  every  one  he  had  ever  known  back  there. 

The  ice  thus  broken,  they  fell  into  a  conversation 
which  soon  put  them  on  as  familiar  a  footing  as  could  be 
under  the  circumstances. 

Mrs.  McKinley  soon  joined  them,  and  with  her  came 
the  younger  members  of  the  family — boys  and  girls,  most 
of  whom  were  but  toddlers  when  Phil  and  Nettie  were 
quite  well-grown  children.  But  now  these  were  big  boys 
and  girls — almost  men  and  women. 

After  all  the  rest  came  Mr.  McKinley,  who  shook 
hands  with  Phil,  now  that  shaking  hands  was  not  such  a 
difficult  matter  as  when  one  was  in  the  saddle  and  the 
other  was  sitting  on  the  spring  seat  of  an  emigrant 
wagon. 

There  was  a  good  bit  of  cordiality  in  his  manner,  not 
withstanding  the  sense  of  dignity  which  he  felt  belonged 
to  the  man  who  was  commissioned  by  two  States  to  run 
a  ferry  had  not  all  left  him  with  his  leaving  the  inter 
state  business. 

When  all  preparations  for  such  a  meal  as  they  could 
get  under  the  circumstances  were  about  completed,  Mis. 


214  TALK    OF    OKLAHOMA. 

McKinley  suggested  to  her  husband,  who  had  beerft  too 
busily  engaged  talking  to  think  of  it,  that  he  find  Phil's 
companions  and  invite  them  to  supper — a  suggestion  to 
which  he  responded  with  alacrity,  although  Phil  assured 
them  that  it  was  not  necessary,  as  they  had  provided 
themselves  with  food  before  leaving  town,  and  had  it 
safely  store  away  at  the  backs  of  their  saddles. 

Nevertheless,  Mr.  McKinley  hunted  them  up,  but  he 
found  them  already  eating  with  some  of  the  other  emi 
grants,  and  so  he  returned  to  his  own  camp  fire  without 
them. 

After  supper  Phil's  companions  sought  him  out,  and 
they  were  introduced  by  name  to  Mr.  McKinley  and  his 
family. 

Then  others  of  the  emigrants  gathered  around,  and 
they  asked  questions  about  Oklahoma,  about  the  trouble 
which  the  colonists  had  with  the  military  authorities  and 
about  other  portions  of  the  country  with  which  their  new 
acquaintances  were  familiar — through  all  of  which  Phil 
waited  and  watched  for  an  opportunity  to  speak  with 
Nettie  out  of  hearing  of  the  others,  though  knowing  all 
the  time  that  if  such  a  chance  were  tc  occur  he  would  be 
no  more  capable  of  saying  acy  but  the  most  common 
place  things  than  he  was  of  flying.  He  was  not  even 
quite  sure  that  he  would  be  able  to  say  any  thing,  but 
none  the  less  he  wished  that  they  might  be  alon^/  if  only 
for  a  minute. 


PHIL  GROWS  MISERABLY  HAPPY.  215 

To  be  alone  with  Nettie  would,  he  felt,  bring  her,  in 
some  way,  close  to  him;  give  him  a  kind  of  possessor- 
ship,  as  it  were;  a  possessorship  such  as  he  had  when  as 
boy  and  girl  they  ran  the  ferry  boat  together  and  were 
recognized  by  everybody  in  the  little  village  as  being 
partners  in  everything  and  as  having  a  perfect  right  to 
be  together. 

But  no  opportunity  of  speaking  with  Nettie  apart 
from  others  occurred,  nor  indeed  of  addressing  her  at  all 
except  as  he  included  her  with  others  of  the  family  in 
some  questions  relating  to  those  he  had  known  or  events 
which  had  occurred  in  the  vicinity  of  his  old  home. 

Occasionally  Nettie  answered,  being  best  able  to  do 
so  from  her  better  knowledge  of  those  earlier  compan 
ions  of  whom  he  wished  to  know,  and  that  was  all.  And 
when  the  little  crowd  began  to  disperse,  and  when  Phil 
finally  felt  compelled  to  say  good-night,  he  knew  that  he 
had  received  no  sign  to  tell  him  whether  Nettie  remem 
bered  him  as  he  wished  to  be  remembered. 

But  he  was  miserably  happy — never  had  been  so 
much  so  in  his  life.  He  rolled  himself  up  in  his  blank 
ets  by  the  side  of  his  comrades,  but  if  he  slept  or  not  is 
only  known  to  the  sentinel  stars  that  "kept  their  watch 
in  the  sky." 

Only  this  much  is  known:  After  tossing  restlessly 
for  an  indefinite  period,  Phil  thought  of  his  pony,  which 
had  refused  to  be  rubbed  down  when  unsaddled,  and  he 


216  PONDERING. 

got  up  and  went  to  him  and  curried  him,  when  he  stood 
with  his  legs  spread  out  and  his  nose  almost  touching  the 
ground — asleep. 

The  sleeping  pony  awoke  with  a  little  snort  when  his 
master  spoke  his  name,  and  then  quietly  submitted  to 
having  his  sweat-dried  coat  rubbed  clean  with  a  handful 
of  grass  and  a  smooth  stick,  which  Phil  managed  to  find 
by  feeling  around  on  the  ground  in  the  darkness. 

After  rubbing  down  his  pony  Phil  returned  to  his 
sleeping  comrades.  But  instead  of  lying  down  on  his 
blankets,  as  they  lay,  he  gathered  them  up  and  went  and 
spread  them  at  the  roots  of  a  tree  a  little  way  off,  where 
he  lay  down  again  and  there  remained  until  morning. 

So  soon  as  he  saw  that  the  family  was  astir  the  next 
morning  Phil  took  his  stock  of  provisions  over  to  the 
McKinley  wagon.  He  had  not  forgotten  that  in  the 
other  days  he  had  always  a  friend  in  Mrs.  McKinley,  and 
he  was  shrewd  enough  to  guess  that  she  was  still  his 
friend. 

Phil  had  now  had  a  little  time  to  think  matters  over, 
and  he  felt  that,  having  been  received  kindly,  he  would 
have  only  himself  to  blame  if  he  did  not  drop  at  once, 
into  the  old-time  relationship  with  the  family. 

In  this  reckoning  of  the  family  he  did  not  include 
Nettie,  however.  If  he  won  Nettie  for  his  wife  he  must 
first  prove  himself  worthy  of  her.  He  felt  sure  of  that. 
Even  if  she  remembered  him  as  he  hoped  she  did,  he 


SPARRING   FOR  AN  OPENING. 

knew  now  that  she  would  not  acknowledge  her  love  until 
he  had  proven  to  her  that  he  was  capable  of  some  higher 
calling  than  that  of  trailing  Indians  or  herding  long-horn 
steers. 

What  Philip  sighed  for  now  was  an  opportunity  to 
prove  to  her  that,  though  unlearned  in  books,  he  was  yet 
the  equal  of  most  other  men  in  ability  and  in  moral  and 
physical  courage.  He  meant  to  make  himself  the  equal 
of  the  best.  He  could  do  so  with  her  to  help  him — so 
he  told  himself  ;  and  he  meant  to  learn  what  she  would 
prefer  him  to  be — what  her  standard  of  manhood  was, 
and  to  make  that  his  standard. 

Not  that  he  had  not  strong  convictions  of  what  was 
just  and  right,  as  between  man  and  man,  for  he  had.  It 
had  been  said  of  him  more  than  once,  and  by  men  who 
knew  him  intimately,  that  there  was  no  squarer  man  on 
the  range  than  Phil  Johnson. 

But  of  many  things  he  was  ignorant — just  how  very 
ignorant  he  did  not  know,  but  he  meant  to  find  out.  He 
meant  to  learn  by  watching  Nettie,  if  possible  for  him  to 
be  near  her,  and  to  be  in  all  things  what  she  would  have 
him  be. 

And,  now  that  he  had  come  to  himself,  he  knew  that 
the  way  to  begin  was  to  accept  to  the  fullest  the  friendly 
interest  shown  him  by  the  family  and  do  as  nearly  as  pos 
sible  as  he  would  have  done  when  a  boy  helping  Nettie 


218  AGAIN   EN   RAPPORT. 

row  the  ferry,  and  that  was  to  go  to  a  meal  with  them  as 
if  one  of  their  own  family,  if  so  it  happened  that  he  was 
necessarily  present  at  meal  time. 

It  was,  therefore,  the  result  of  well-digested  thought 
that  brought  him  to  the  McKinley  wagon  with  his  pack 
of  provisions  and  tin  cup  for  coffee  that  morning. 

"Mrs.  McKinley,"  he  said,  "  I  supposed  you  would 
expect  me  to  breakfast,  so  here  I  am.  I  Ve  brought 
along  my  own  stock  of  provisions,  so  if  you  happen  to 
be  short  I  '11  not  rob  the  family.  I  expect  you  remem 
ber  something  about  my  appetite,  and  probably  noticed 
last  night  that  it  has  grown  no  less  since  I  ate  at  your 
table  when  I  was  a  boy. " 

That  Mrs.  McKinley  was  pleased  with  his  frankness 
and  desire  to  resume  his  old  relations  with  the  family 
even  modest  Phil  thought  he  could  see.  At  any  rate,  she 
treated  him  exactly  as  she  used  to  do — with  a  kind  of 
motherly  solicitude — which  made  it  very  easy  for  him  to 
feel  at  ease,  and  so  appear  to  the  best  advantage. 

And  Phil  was  as  good-looking  and  as  manly-looking 
a  fellow  as  one  meets  in  a  day's  travel.  Standing  5  feet 
IO  in  his  boots,  well  formed  and  muscular,  with  a  good 
head  set  firmly  upon  his  shoulders,  mustache  of  brown 
inclining  to  red,  with  brown  hair  and  blue  eyes,  Phil  ap 
proached  the  ideal  man.  It  is  doubtful  if  Nettie  had 
ever  seen  a  more  manly  form  than  the  sun-burnt  and 
sombrero-topped  young  fellow  who  came  and  took  the 


MORE   ABOUT  OKLAHOMA. 

bucket  of  water  out  of  her  hand  as  she  was  coming  up 
the  creek  bank;  and  there  must  have  been  something  in 
her  face  which  showed  that  she  was  conscious  of  this 
fact,  for  Phil  suddenly  felt  himself  to  be  more  of  a  man 
than  ever  before  and  more  worthy  to  be  her  husband. 

Together  they  walked  back  to  the  wagon,  chatting 
easily  and  freely,  both  of  the  past  and  the  present.  At 
breakfast  Phil  managed  to  secure  a  seat  upon  the  same 
log  with  Nettie,  and  close  by  her  side.  And  Phil  was 
not  conscious  of  what  they  had  for  breakfast,  and  can 
not  tell  to  this  day. 

The  talk  while  eating  was  principally  of  Oklahoma 
and  the  advisability  of  the  McKinley  family  joining  the 
colonists. 

Phil  told  them,  as  nearly  as  he  could,  the  facts  about 
the  country  and  the  prospects  for  its  early  settlement. 
He  knew  enough  of  the  ways  of  the  owners  of  large 
herds  of  cattle,  and  of  the  necessity  of  their  keeping 
control  of  great  tracts  of  land  for  herding  purposes,  to 
understand  something  of  the  danger  which  the  colonists 
were  in  from  that  quarter,  but  he  could  not  conceive  it 
possible  that,  when  the  facts  were  known  to  the  authori 
ties  at  Washington,  ary  one  would  be  allowed  to  inter 
fere  with  those  citizens  who  were  seeking  to  make  homes 
npon  the  public  lands,  and  he  therefore  felt  safe  so  far  as 
fear  of  further  trouble  with  the  military  forces  of  the 
government  was  concerned, 


230  PLANNING  TO  KEEP  NEASt 

Naturally,  he  was  intensely  anxious  to  have  McKin- 
ley's  family  join  the  colonists,  for  only  in  this  way  could 
he  hope  to  keep  Nettie  by  him. 

True,  he  would  have  given  up  his  claim  and  selected 
another  in  the  vicinity  of  any  spot  where  the  McKinleys 
might  have  chosen  to  pre-empt,  in  Kansas  or  one  of  the 
territories,  but  to  do  so  would  be  to  indirectly  declare  his 
hope  with  regard  to  Nettie,  and  to  do  it  in  a  way  which 
he  felt  would  hardly  be  manly  under  the  circumstances. 

Such  a  move  would  be  too  clear  a  declaration  of  his 
desire  to  be  in  her  society  not  to  be  accompanied  with  a 
direct  offer  of  marriage,  and  he  felt  that  the  time  to  do 
that  had  not  come.  Therefore,  he  must  either  persuade 
them  to  go  to  Oklahoma  or  submit  to  being  separated 
from  Nettie  almost  as  soon  as  he  had  found  her,  and  de 
pend  for  success  in  winning  her  upon  correspondence  by 
letter. 

He  was  sure  she  would  not  refuse  him  permission  to 
write  to  her,  but  he  was  not  accustomed  to  writing,  and 
he  doubted  his  ability  to  show  to  advantage  in  a  corre 
spondence  such  as  that  would  be.  Yet,  above  all  other 
things,  he  disliked  to  be  separated  from  her,  now  that 
they  had  met  again. 

Nettie  took  but  little  part  in  the  discussion  of  the 
proposition  to  go  to  Oklahoma.  Beyond  asking  Phil  if 
he  thought  the  country  would  settle  up  rapidly,  so  that 
good  schools  would  follow,  she  said  nothing. 


MR.  M'KINLEY'S  VISION. 

Her  father  once  asked  her  squarely  whether  she  was 
in  favor  of  the  family  going  or  not,  but  her  mother  very 
dextrously  parried  the  question  for  her,  and  she  was  not 
obliged  to  answer  it. 

In  the  end  it  was  decided  to  go.  Mr.  McKinley  was 
in  favor  of  it,  because  he  believed  that  as  soon  as  a  ter 
ritorial  government  was  formed  he  could  procure  a  char 
ter  for  running  a  ferry  boat  across  the  river ;  the  boys 
favored  it,  because  there  was  plenty  of  game  and  the 
trip  promised  excitement  ;  and  Mrs.  McKinley  favored  it 
because — well,  if  the  truth  must  be  known,  because  she 
thought  her  eldest  daughter's  happiness  would  be  made 
secure  by  it,  without  injuring  in  any  way  the  prospects 
of  the  younger  children. 

Mothers,  be  it  known,  are  acquainted  with  the  ways 
and  the  hearts  of  girls,  and  quick  to  understand  and 
sympathize  with  them  in  their  heart  troubles  and  joys. 
If  Nettie  loved  Phil,  had  loved  him  and  clung  to  his 
memory  all  these  years,  it  is  reasonably  certain  that  her 
mother  knew  it. 

Mrs.  McKinley  was  wise  in  her  unlearned  way,  and 
was  a  good  judge  of  character.  She  knew  Phil  when  a 
boy,  and  she  knew  his  parents  and  from  whom  they  were 
descended.  She  had  confidence  in  Phil — in  his  integrity 
of  character  and  in  his  ability  to  make  his  way  in  life- 
Therefore,  she  was  not  inclined  to  do  that  which  would 
needlessly  separate  the  young  people,  now  that  they  had 


222  MOTHERS'  WISDOM. 

been  brought  together  again,  until  they  had  full  oppor 
tunity  to  know  whether  the  feeling  of  their  childhood 
remained  to  them  in  their  manhood  and  womanhood. 
For  thoroughly  sound  good  sense  and  womanly  wisdom, 
give  me  the  mother  whose  life  has  not  been  all  it  might 
have  been  of  ease  and  comfort ;  give  me  the  mothers  of 
the  Wabash  and  other  agricultural  districts. 

To  say  that  Phil  was  rejoiced  at  the  decision  arrived 
at  by  the  McKinleys  would  be  a  waste  of  both  time  and 
words. 

He  wanted  to  look  at  Nettie  and  see  how  she  received 
the  decision  of  her  parents  when  it  was  finally  made 
known,  but  he  could  not  muster  sufficient  courage  for  a 
moment,  and  when  he  did  look  at  her  she  had  turned 
away,  and  appeared  to  be  mighty  busy  at  that  particular 
moment. 

He  felt  pretty  certain,  however,  that  she  was  not 
sorry,  and  so  he  was  content. 

Before  they  broke  camp  that  morning,  Phil  wrote  a 
long  and  loving  letter  home,  in  which  he  told  of  his  joy 
ful  meeting  with  the  McKinleys,  of  his  failure  to  get  the 
letters  addressed  to  him,  and  promised  faithfully  that  as 
soon  as  he  got  his  claim  fairly  in  shape  he  would  pay  a 
visit  to  the  old  place  "down  home."  He  promised,  fur 
ther,  to  spend  several  weeks  at  least  with  those  so  dear 
to  him. 

Mrs.  McKinley  also  wrote   to   Phil's   mother.     Just 


TWO  FAMILIES  ADDED.  38| 

what  she  wrote  in  that  letter  only  two  persons  were  sup 
posed  ever  to  know.  But  it  is  safe  to  say  nothing  was 
written  that  would  make  Mrs.  Johnson  feel  ashamed  of 
her  son. 


Only  two  families  from  the  half  dozen  who  composed 
company  of  emigrants  with  whom  Phil  and  his 
friends  camped  that  night  decided  to  go  to  Oklahoma, 
and  of  them  one  was  Mr.  McKinley's.  The  others  con 
tinued  their  journey  westward,  and  settled  near  Garfield, 
in  Pawi:ee  county,  Kansas.  Beyond  this  mention  their 
fate  bears  no  relation  to  this  narrative. 

After  giving  directions  as  to  the  route  to  follow  in 
order  to  reach  the  camp  of  the  colonists,  Phil  and  his 
companions  hit  them  and  galloped  on  ahead. 

Gladly  woia\  Phi!  have  remained  behind  and  piloted 


TH£   COMMISSIONERS    RETURN. 

them  through,  except  that  there  was  really  no  need  of  it 
and  he  felt  that  it  would  be  wisest  not  to  run  any  risk  of 
seeming  to  force  his  company  upon  the  family. 

The  three  horsemen  arrived  at  the  camp  of  the  colo 
nists  a  little  afternoon  of  the  same  day,  and  the  wagons 
bringing  the  new  accessions  to  their  numbers  reached 
there  just  at  sundown. 

So  Phil  had  the  pleasure  of  seeing  Nettie  again  be- 
fove  ht,  stapt  that  night 


CHAPTER  XV. 

BACK   TO   THE    CANADIAN — HAVING    BUILT  A   NEW   HOUSE, 
PHIL   CONCLUDES   TO   DEDICATE   IT. 

The  journey  back  to  the  settlement  on  the  Canadian 
was  made  without  incident,  so  far  as  the  company  at 
large  was  concerned. 

To  Phil  and  Nettie  every  day,  and  almost  every  hour, 
was  rilled  with  incidents — the  incidents  of  their  hourly 
meetings  and  partings,  of  his  riding  by  the  side  of  her 
father's  wagon  as  they  journeyed  along,  of  a  spoken 
word,  a  glance,  a  simple  flower  which  he  stooped  from 
his  saddle  to  pluck  and  hand  to  her. 

And  then  the  evenings  spent  about  the  camp  fires,  in 
which  memories  of  the  trifling  incidents  that  made  up 
the  days  and  years  of  their  childhood  were  recalled  and 
lived  over  again  in  all  their  sweetness.  All  these  were 
mere  passing  incidents  of  a  flitting  evening,  unnoticed 


226  FRONTIER  CRAFT. 

and  uncared  for  by  others,  but  to  these  two  young  peo 
ple  they  were  things  to  be  thought  over  and  dwelt  upon 
after  they  had  retired  for  the  night  and  before  the  morn 
ing  risings. 

Phil  professed  still  to  board  with  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Jones. 
But  his  real  status  as  a  boarder  with  the  Joneses  was 
about  like  this  :  Having  reinstated  himself  with  the 
McKinley  family  on  something  like  the  old  down-home 
basis,  he  did  as  he  had  been  wont  to  do  when  a  boy.  He 
ate  with  them  about  as  often  as  a-nywhere  else. 

The  two  McKinley  boys  were  now  approaching  man 
hood,  and  one  of  them  was  beginning  to  watch  with  im 
patience  for  the  appearance  of  down  upon  his  upper  lip. 
Both  these  boys  at  once  '  'took  to"  Phil,  as  the  saying  is, 
being  caught  by  his  evident  knowledge  of  frontier  life 
and  by  his  splendid  accomplishments  as  a  horseman  and 
rifle  shot. 

As  much  as  possible  they  put  themselves  in  his  com 
pany,  and  to  them  he  gave  lessons  in  frontier  craft — the 
"signs"  of  the  different  kinds  of  game  with  which  the 
country  abounded  and  the  best  method  of  securing  it. 

His  rifle  was  always  at  their  service,  and  also  his 
pony,  and  many  were  the  attempts  made  by  one  or  the 
other  of  them  to  bag  a  deer  or  antelope,  droves  of  which 
were  often  seen,  as  the  line  of  wagons,  one  following  the 
other,  moved  away  across  the  prairie.  And,  unskilled 
as  they  were,  they  were  not  always  without  reward  for 


HOME  AGAIN.  227 

their  efforts.  At  least,  their  success  was  sufficient  to 
sustain  their  interest  and  excitement  in  the  sport.  Of 
course,  when  the  boys  failed  to  keep  good  the  supply  of 
game,  Phil  and  others  succeeded,  so  that  fresh  meat  in 
variety  was  always  abundant  in  the  train. 

Phil  was  now  happily  miserable — happy  in  the  belief 
that  he  was  regarded  with  favor  by  his  sweetheart,  and 
miserable  because  he  could  not  be  in  her  presence  more 
than  about  half  of  their  waking  moments.  But  he  man 
aged  some  way  to  continue  to  exist,  and  even  to  avoid 
being  called  crazy  by  anybody  in  the  company,  though 
just  how  he  did  it  he  could  not  have  told.  Certainly  he 
said  and  did  some  things  which  only  a  crazy  man  or  one 
madly  in  love  would  have  perpetrated. 


*    *     * 


A  cheer  broke  from  the  lips  of  the  colonists  when 
first  they  neared,  once  more,  the  spot  from  which  they 
had  been  so  ruthlessly  driven — the  spot  whereon  they 
had  begun  to  make  themselves  homes. 

It  was  at  the  close  of  a  day  long  and  warm,  and  they 


WEN  AND  HOW. 

were  grown  weary  of  the  journey  and  eager  to  get  back 

and  be  at  rest  and  at  work  lipon  their  claims. 

This  forced  journey  had  not  been  to  them  like  the 
one  by  which  they  had  first  come  to  this  spot. 

Then  they  were  filled  with  joyous  anticipations  of  the 
future,  with  which  were  mingled  feelings  of  love  for,  and 
pride  in,  their  country  as  the  possessor  of  such  unbound 
ed  resources  and  so  glorious  a  Constitution — a  Constitu 
tion  which  guaranteed  to  every  citizen,  no  matter  how 
humble,  a  right  to  life  and  liberty  and  a  home  upon  the 
soil,  provided  only  that  he  was  willing  to  fashion  that 
home  with  his  own  hands.  There  was  a  sense  of  secur 
ity,  a  mantle  of  peace,  resting  upon  them  then — a  feel 
ing  that  peace  instead  of  war  and  love  in  place  of  hatred 
constituted  the  normal  condition  of  men,  and  that  with 
in  that  condition  of  peace  and  good  will  they  could  em 
brace  all  races  of  men. 

Such  is  ever  the  feeling  produced  by  conditions  in 
which  hope  of  a  good  time  to  come  is  founded  upon  the 
belief  that  justice  is  enthroned  and  rules  over  all,  and 
that  labor  will  receive  its  perfect  reward. 

But  now  ? 

Now  they  were  returning  to  homes  from  which  they 
had  been  driven  by  the  very  power  which  they  revered 
more  than  all  other  earthly  powers — by  the  government 
of  which  they  had  been  so  proud  ;  in  spite  of  the  Con* 
stitution  in  which  they  had  placed  such  implicit  trust. 


ANXIOUS  HOURS.  399 

True,  they  did  not  believe  the  wrong  to  have  been 
an  intentional  one  on  the  part  of  the  government.  It 
was  a  blunder,  doubtless  ;  it  had  arisen  out  of  a  misun 
derstanding  of  what  and  who  they  were,  and  of  the 
exact  locality  in  which  they  had  located  their  claims. 

But,  nevertheless,  the  annoying  and  costly  wrong  had 
been  done  them,  and  the  instrument  by  which  it  had 
been  accomplished  was  a  company  of  government  troops 
which  had  been  stationed  on  the  frontier  professedly  for 
the  protection  of  just  such  as  they — the  protection  of 
citizens  seeking  to  make  homes  for  themselves  and  build 
up  great  States  on  the  unoccupied  lands  of  the  smiling 
West. 

This  fact  hurt,  in  spite  of  themselves. 

The  knowledge  of  the  source  of  their  wrongs  took 
from  them  the  feeling  of  absolute  security,  and  left  in  its 
place  the  smart  of  injustice,  which,  however  much  they 
compelled  themselves  to  make  excuses  for  it,  still  rankled 
in  their  hearts  and  made  the  sun  seem  a  little  less  bright, 
their  hopes  for  the  future  a  little  less  gay,  their  confi 
dence  in  themselves  a  little  less  perfect. 

The  colonists  were  anxious,  too,  to  know  how  much 
damage,  if  any,  had  been  done  to  their  crops,  planted 
and  up  before  they  were  dragged  away;  to  know  whether 
their  rude  cabins  had  been  destroyed  or  not. 

These  lovers  of  peace  and  domesticity  longed  to  be 
in  possession,  full  and  complete,  of  their  homes  and 


"HOME,     SWEET    HOME," 

their  claims,  and  to  continue  the  work  which  they  had 
begun  with  such  enthusiasm  only  a  few  short  months  be 
fore;  and  they  greeted  with  a  cheer  the  first  sight  of  the 
belt  of  timber  fringing  the  river,  beyond  which  their 
cabins  lay,  and,  touching  up  their  now  somewhat  jaded 
animals,  they  pushed  forward  with  a  more  lively  step. 

And  then  some  one — some  woman — began  singing 
"Home,  Sweet  Home." 

Clear  and  low  the  music  and  the  words  floated  out 
upon  the  evening  air,  and  mingled  with  the  scent  of  the* 
flowers  and  the  grass,  upon  which  the  dew  was  begin 
ning  to  fall  and  the  harvest  moon  to  shed  its  soft  rays 
as,  like  a  ball  of  silver,  it  arose  above  the  horizon. 

Oh,  how  thrilling  and  ennobling  is  the  music  of  a 
woman's  voice,  whose  notes  express  the  yearnings  of  a 
pure  heart  ! 

Thus  ran  the  old  song — the  great  American  home 
song: 

"'Mid  pleasures  and  palaces  though  we  may  roam. 

Be  it  ever  so  humble,  there  's  no  place  like  home. 
A  charm  from  the  skies  seems  to  hallow  us  there, 

Which,  seek  thro'  the  world,  is  not  met  with  elsewhere." 

A  child's  voice,  piping  and  clear,  like  the  notes  of  a 
robin,  joined  that  of  the  woman  in  the  middle  of  the 
stanza,  and  when  the  chorus  was  reached  other  voices  of 
both  men  and  women  joined  in,  and  added  to  the  volume 
of  the  music  and  sent  it  flying  across  the  prairie  to  be 


BLACK   AND   BARE.  231 

broken  into  echoes  against  the  line  of  timber  upon  the 
river  bank. 

"  Home,  home — sweet,  sweet  home  ! 
There  's  no  place  like  home  1 
There  -^no  place  like  home  I" 

Uncultivated  voices  these,  did  you  say  ? 

Granted. 

But  they  were  voices  strong,  clear  and  sweet  ;  voices 
rilled  with  a  pathos  born  of  deep  feeling  and  strong  emo 
tions  ;  the  voices  of  men  and  women  who  longed  for  the 
sweets  of  home  as  the  roe  panteth  for  the  clear  waters. 

They  forded  the  river  with  the  full  light  of  the  moon 
shining  down  upon  them,  passed  through  the  strip  of 
timber  upon  its  farther  bank,  where  the  shadows  were 
black,  and  only  here  and  there  a  ray  of  silver  found  its 
way  through  thick  foliage  to  the  damp  ground  ;  made  the 
little  rise  upon  the  other  side,  where  the  timber  gave  way 
to  the  prairie,  and  emerged  upon  the  site  of  the  town 
which  they  had  laid  out  with  such  high  hopes  when  they 
first  came,  and  near  to  where  the  cabins  of  two  of  their 
number  had  stood. 

But  the  cabins  were  not  there  ! 

The  spot  where  they  had  stood  was  a  bit  of  bare, 
black  earth,  and  that  was  all.  Even  the  ashes  to  which 
they  had  been  reduced  had  been  blown  away  by  the 
winds. 

The  whole  party  camped  there  that  night.     As  one 


f  39  NOT  SO. 

end  another  of  the  canvas-covered  wagons  emerged  from 
the  shadows  and  moved  on  and  up  ir.to  the  prairie  and 
the  moonlight  they  halted,  and  their  drivers  got  down 
from  their  seats  and  unhitched  their  teams  and  picketed 
them,  with  scarcely  a  word  spoken  to  wife  or  child  or 
comrade. 

None  felt  it  worth  while  to  drive  their  wearied  teams 
farther  in  any  faint  hope  that  their  own  cabins  might 
have  been  spared,  for  they  knew  perfectly  well  the  mo 
tive  which  had  prompted  the  destruction  of  the  two 
cabins  which  had  stood  on  the  spot  near  where  they  now 
were,  and  that  it  existed  equally  for  the  destruction  of 
each  and  all  the  rest,  and  that  in  all  probability  all  were 
destroyed.  Nevertheless,  when  their  animals  had  been 
cared  for,  one  and  another  of  their  number  slipped  away 
on  foot  and  visited  their  separate  claims,  but  only  to  find 
their  worst  fears  proven  true.  Their  homes  were  gone. 
The  earth  where  their  cabins  had  stood  was  bare  and 
black  and  desolate. 

But  did  these  men  weep  and  wring  their  hands,  and 
weakly  moan  over  the  desolation  wrought — over  cabins 
burned,  over  crops  trampled  into  the  ground  by  the 
hoofs  of  thousands  of  half-wild  cattle  ? 

Not  so  ! 

Some  angry  words,  some  oaths,  some  threats  of  what 
they  would  do  if  the  perpetrators  of  these  new  outrages 
should  be  incautious  enough  to  fall  into  their  hands — 


PHIL'S  FIRST  CABIN.  333 

and  that  was  all.  There  was  no  crying  over  spilled  milk, 
but  no  more  milk  was  to  be  spilled. 

They  built  other  cabins  as  they  had  builded  those 
destroyed  by  the  selfish  greed  of  the  cattle  kings.  The 
ground  where  the  growing  corn  had  been  trampled  and 
devoured  they  sowed  to  wheat. 

The  corner  stakes  which  marked  the  boundary  lines 
of  their  separate  claims  they  re-established  where  they 
had  been  removed.  They  foreswore  the  pleasures  of  the 
chase,  or  hunted  only  as  they  had  need  of  procuring 
food,  and  worked  steadily  and  hard. 

They  spoke  not  over  much  of  the  past  at  first,  and 
then  less  and  still  less,  and  then  not  at'all,  but  only  of 
the  future  and  of  the  good  time  coming. 

As  for  Phil,  the  loss  of  his  cabin  was  not  a  heavy 
affliction,  and  he  was  not  suffering  greatly  for  the  want 
of  it.  The  burning  of  a  dozen  or  a  hundred  cabins  all 
belonging  to  him,  if  he  had  possessed  so  many,  would 
not  have  made  him  unhappy  just  then. 

His  corn  was  trampled  and  destroyed,  of  course. 
This  was  a  much  greater  loss  than  his  cabin,  which  had 
not  been  a  very  valuable  one,  and  had  not  cost  a  very 
great  amount  of  labor. 

Being  without  a  family  and  boarding  with  a  neigh- 
bor,  he  had  considered  it  necessary  to  build  only  such  a 
house  as  would  meet  the  requirements  of  the  law.  A 
few  logs  put  up  without  much  hewing  or  nice  care  and 


234          MR«   M'KINLEY'S  LITTLE  WEAKNESS, 

roofed  over  with  poles  and  long  grass — a  house  in  which, 
in  fact,  he  kept  his  plow  and  whatever  other  implements 
of  tillage  he  had,  and  allowed  Mr.  Jones  to  store  his 
also,  but  in  which  he  slept  occasionally,  that  he  might 
comply  with  the  letter  of  the  law,  the  spirit  of  which  he 
was  complying  with  in  breaking  the  sod,  and  in  whatever 
way  he  made  clear  his  intentions  honestly  to  make  it  his 
permanent  home — this  was  the  kind  of  a  house  Phil  had 
owned,  and  such  another  he  could  build,  if  he  wished, 
in  a  week's  time,  with  a  little  help  from  some  of  the 
neighbors  in  putting  the  logs  in  position. 

But  Phil  did  not  hurry  to  rebuild.  Instead,  he  gave 
assistance  in  rebuilding  to  Mr.  Jones,  and  to  others  who 
had  families,  and  were  in  more  immediate  need  of  home 
shelter. 

The  McKinleys  were  strong  handed  of  themselves. 
True,  the  old  gentleman  was  not  over  fond  of  work,  as  a 
rule,  but  now  he  awoke  to  the  spirit  of  the  occasion  and 
of  those  with  whom  he  was  associated.  With  the  help 
of  his  two  sons,  he  soon  had  a  very  comfortable  double 
cabin  erected  on  the  claim  which  they  had  fixed  upon. 
This  claim  abutted  upon  the  river  at  a  point  where  it 
would  be  easy  to  establish  a  ferry,  when  he  should  have 
secured  a  license  to  do  so  from  the  Territorial  Legisla- 

j*- 

ture  which  was  to  be. 

To  erect  a  ferry  without  a  license,  probably,  did  not 
occur  to  him  as  possible,  or  if  it  did  he  did  not  care  to 


MR.   M'KINLEY'S  RECIPE.  235 

do  so.  The  owning  of  a  ferry  without  a  charter  signed 
and  sealed  in  due  form  with  the  big  seal  of  the  State  and 
with  a  ribbon  attached  to  it  would  carry  no  dignity  with 
it.  It  was  recognition  by  the  Commonwealth  as  a  per 
son  fit  to  be  intrusiTed  with  the  responsibility  of  the  high 
position  which  Mr.  McKinley  coveted,  and  not  the  work 
or  profits  of  the  business. 

Heretofore,  at  least,  Mr.  McKinley  had  worried  him 
self  very  little  over  the  problem  of  how  to  make  a  living 
for  the  family.  That  was  a  duty  which  he  felt  belonged 
by  right  to  his  wife,  and  with  which  he  never  interfered 
to  any  great  extent.  He  probably  reasoned  that,  as  it 
was  the  generally  accepted  theory  and  one  everywhere 
reduced  to  practice  that  the  wife  should  cook  the  food 
for  the  family,  and  as  in  order  for  her  to  do  this  the  food 
must  first  be  procured,  it  followed  naturally  that  whoever 
did  the  cooking  should  also  procure  that  which  was  to  be 
cooked. 

Mr.  McKinley  indorsed  and  adopted  the  recipe  which 
opens  with  the  admonition  : 

"  First  catch  your  hare." 

Thus  Mr.  McKinley's  recipe  for  all  manner  of  cooking 
was  : 

"First  get  something  to  cook." 

Having  furnished  this  recipe,  he  felt  that  his  duty, 
so  far  as  it  related  to  providing  food  and  raiment  for  his 
household,  was  fully  performed.  All  that  yet  remained 


2  36  A   WOMAN    OF    SENSE. 

for  him  to  do  was  to  properly  sustain  the  dignity  of  the 
family,  which  in  his  opinion  could  best  be  done  by  secur 
ing  recognition  from  the  State  in  the  shape  of  a  charter 
or  license  of  some  kind,  such  appearing  in  his  mind  to 
be  in  the  nature  of  a  certificate  of  character,  a  formal 
acknowledgment  from  those  in  authority  that  the  person 
certified  to  was  one  worthy  of  being  held  in  high  esteem 
by  them,  and  hence  by  all. 

He  had  insisted  on  maintaining  the  ferry  across  the 
Wabash  long  after  it  had  ceased  to  pay  for  the  trouble 
of  tending  it,  and  had  only  consented  to  leave  the  town 
when  his  charter  expired  and  he  learned  that  he  could 
not  get  it  renewed  because  of  the  fact  that  a  ferry  at  that 
point  was  no  longer  needed  by  any  considerable  number 
of  people;  and  now  his  anxiety  for  the  rapid  settlement 
of  Oklahoma  arose  apparently  from  a  desire  to  see  the 
Territory  organized  and  a  Legislature  elected,  which 
would  be  endowed  with  authority  to  grant  him  a  certifi 
cate  of  respectability — or,  in  other  words,  a  charter  to 
establish  a  ferry  across  the  Canadian  River  at  the  point 
where  he  had  located  his  claim. 

This  little  weakness  of  Mr.  McKinley  did  not,  how 
ever,  interfere  to  make  either  himself  or  family  inhos 
pitable  or  unsociable.  Indeed,  its  members  were  more 
than  ordinarily  sociable,  both  among  themselves  and  with 
others. 

Mrs.  McKinley  was  a  woman  of  much  natural  ability 


PHIL'S  BRIGHT  PLOW. 

and  good  sense,  though  entirely  without  education,  and 
was  quite  capable,  as  a  general  thing,  of  both  catching 
and  cooking  her  own  hare,  and  she  respected,  and  taught 
her  children  to  respect,  this  fear  which  their  father  had 
of  compromising  his  dignity,  and  to  treat  him  with  a  mild 
species  of  formality  quite  sufficient  to  satisfy  his  idea  of 
what  was  right  and  proper,  and  so  prevented  any  rasp^ 
ing  of  tempers  on  anybody's  part,  and  made  theirs  one 
of  the  pleasantest  of  families  in  which  to  remain,  either 
for  a  short  or  long  period  of  time. 

Phil  soon  found  that  he  was  not  alone  in  his  admira 
tion  for  the  beautiful  eldest  daughter.  Neither  was  he 
the  only  one  who  was  a  frequent  and  apparently  welcome 
visitor  at  the  spacious  and  inviting  double  cabin  on  the 
river  bank. 

Meantime  he  kept  industriously  at  work  on  the  im 
provement  of  his  claim. 

Phil  had  found  his  plow  in  the  furrow  where  he  left 
it  when  he  was  arrested  by  the  soldiery,  and  had  again 
hitched  to  it,  and  resumed  his  plowing  when  he  had  ren 
dered  such  assistance  in  the  erection  of  new  cabins  as  he 
felt  was  necessary  to  those  who  had  families.  He  kept 
this  plow  bright  by  constant  use  until  the  time  for  seed 
ing  was  over. 

Then  he  began  the  work  of  erecting  a  new  house, 
which  he  meant  should  be  a  little  better  than  the  most 
of  those  built  near  him, 


238  SLIGHTLY    JEALOUS. 

He  felt  under  no  need  of  making  great  haste,  for  he 
still  boarded  with  Mr.  Jones  and  his  wife,  and  he  had  not 
reached  a  formal  understanding  with  Nettie.  In  truth, 
Phil  was  a  little  jealous,  at  times,  of  some  of  the  other 
young  men  of  the  colony.  Generally,  however,  he  was 
hopeful,  and  even  confident ;  and,  as  he  had  to  erect  a 
house  of  some  kind  in  order  to  keep  good  his  claim  under 
the  law,  he  decided  that  it  should  be  one  as  nearly  wor 
thy  of  Nettie  as  could  well  be,  considering  the  circum 
stances.  So  he  hewed  all  the  logs  of  which  it  was  to  be 
built  in  such  a  way  that  the  walls  would  be  smooth  both 
inside  and  out,  and  notched  and  laid  them  up  with  care. 
Then  he  carefully  chinked  and  plastered  them  as  best  he 
could. 

He  also  made  a  wide  shed  or  porch  at  the  rear  of  the 
house. 

This  was  done  by  allowing  the  third  log  from  the  top, 
in  the  body  of  the  house,  to  extend  over  at  the  back  some 
eight  or  ten  feet.  Then  by  putting  posts  under  these  at 
the  end  and  a  girder  across  from  one  to  the  other,  and 
extending  the  rafters  upon  that  side  clear  down  to  the 
girder,  it  was  ready  to  be  roofed  over  with  <( shakes,'* 
rough  shingles,  split  or  rived  from  straight-grained  trees 
— the  same  as  those  with  which  the  main  body  of  the 
house  was  covered. 

The  autumn  was  far  advanced  when  Phil's  house  was 
completed.  He  felt  a  little  proud  of  it,  as  it  was  the 


WANTED— A    BIRD.  2  39 

best  one  in  the  settlement.  At  least,  this  was  the  own 
er's  estimate  of  his  handiwork. 

And  now  if  Nettie  would  consent  to  become  his  wife 
his  happiness  would  be  complete,  and  he  felt  that  he 
could  not  much  longer  delay  asking  the  question,  upon 
her  answer  to  which  his  future  happiness  or  misery  solely 
depended. 

He  thought  over  the  matter  a  great  deal— thought  of 
it  all  the  time,  in  fact.  But,  like  many  another  lover, 
he  was  loath  to 

"  Put  his  chances  to  the  touch, 

And  win  or  lose  it  all." 

Here,  again,  was  procrastination  the  thief  of  time. 
Poor  Phil !  He  waited  for  some  word  or  look  from  Net 
tie  which  should  give  Him  better  courage  and  a  basis  for 
hope. 

And  so,  wailing  and  hoping,  the  days  went  by,  and  a 
week  had  elapsed  since  his  house  was  finished.  Still  he 
had  not  asked  Nettie  to  share  it  with  him. 

Finally  one  of  the  young  men  with  whom  he  asso 
ciated  said  to  him  : 

"  I  say,  Phil !  Why  don't  you  have  a  dance  and  a 
party  over  at  your  new  house  ?  Dedicate  it,  you  know  ? 
Joe  Anderson  will  fiddle  for  us,  and  we  can  have  a  way- 
up  time.  Say  you  '11  do  it." 

Phil  jumped  at  the  idea,  and  wondered  he  had  not 
thought  of  it  before. 


240  PHIL   GOES    TO    INVITE    NETTIE. 

He  would  invite  everybody — which  would,  of  course, 
include  Nettie.  Maybe,  when  once  she  was  over  there, 
actually  within  his  own  house,  he  could  find  some  way  of 
telling  her  how  much  he  loved  her,  and  how  he  had  built 
the  house  with  the  hope  that  she  would  share  it  with 
him. 

He  told  the  friend  who  had  suggested  the  party  that 
it  would  be  all  right,  and  together  they  fixed  upon  a  time 
for  it  to  come  off.  Then  Phil  told  him  to  invite  every 
body  he  saw,  and  to  tell  them  to  invite  everybody  they 
saw,  so  that  no  one  in  the  settlement  might  be  missed. 

This  preliminary  arranged,  Phil  set  out  for  McKin- 
ley's  cabin  to  invite  Nettie  and  the  rest  of  the  family. 


•JOS- 


CHAPTER  XVI. 

fi    RATHER    STRANGE     BETROTHAL FOLLOWED     BY     HASTY 

PREPARATIONS    FOR    A   FIGHT. 

4  *  Nettie  and  the  other  girls  are  gone  over  to  a  neigh 
bor's,"  Mrs.  McKinley  told  Phil  when  he  inquired  for  her 
at  her  father's  cabin.  Then  he  started  out  to  find  them 
and  escort  them  home. 

He  found  them  at  the  house  to  which  their  mother 
had  directed  him,  and  with  them  he  ate  supper  there. 
Then  they  all  started  to  walk  home. 

As  they  walked  the  younger  girls  went  on  before,  but 
Phil  and  Nettie  lingered. 

At  first  their  conversation  was  on  the  things  of  which 
they  had  been  talking  while  at  the  neighbor's  where  they 
were  visiting.  These  were  some  trifles — the  newest  hap 
penings  among  the  families  constituting  the  colony  ;  the 
contents  of  a  letter  some  one  had  received  from  friends 
in  the  East ;  then  of  their  own  friends,  and  of  things 


242  COMING     TO    THE     POINT. 

which  had  happened  when  they  were  children ;  of  the 
old  home  in  the  older  times. 

Then  Phil  told  her  of  how  his  house  was  finished  and 
ready  for  occupancy,  and  of  how  they  were  all  going  to 
have  a  frolic  there  some  evening  soon,  and  that  he  want 
ed  her  to  let  him  come  for  her  and  see  her  home  again 
afterward. 

To  all  this  Nettie  assented  with  so  sweet  a  grace  that 
Phil  grew  bold. 

He  told  her,  with  much  stammering,  how  he  longed 
to  make  her  his  wife,  to  have  her  love  him  and  share  his 
home  ;  how  he  always  had  meant  to  have  returned  some 
time  to  the'old  home  and  to  her  ;  how,  not  hearing  from 
home,  he  feared  to  go,  lest  he  had  been  forgotten  or  lest 
he  find  her  married  to  another  ;  how,  since  he  had  met 
her  that  afternoon  in  the  emigrant  train,  he  had  thought 
of  nothing  else  save  how  to  win  her  and  to  be  worthy  of 
her  afterward. 

To  Phil's  impassioned  story  Nettie  made  no  reply, 
but  instead  walked  by  his  side  with  her  head  turned  from 
him,  and  gazed  away  off  across  the  prairie  and  the  river, 
as  if  looking  at  some  distant  object. 

Seeing  that  she  turned  away  from  him,  Phil  thought 
Nettie  was  indifferent  to  his  suit.  This  made  him  des 
perate,  and  he  pleaded  the  harder.  He  told  her  that  for 
all  his  imperfections — his  lack  of  education  and  polish — 
he  would  try  to  even  up  with  a  fuller  measure  of  love  ; 


"YES."  243 

told  Jier  AOW,  with  every  blow  struck  upon  his  new  house, 
he  had  sent  yp  3.  fervent  prayer  that  she  might  share  it 
with  him  and  make  it  bright  and  cheery  with  her  pres 
ence. 

But  still  Nettie  walked  w*tfi  head  averted  and  made 
no  answer. 

Phil  cast  his  eyes  in  the  direction  she  was  looking. 
He  Sb.w  that  which  caused  him  to  stop  in  his  walk  sud 
denly  and  his  cheek  to  pale,  though  the  tan  upon  it  was 
as  thick  as  the  sun  and  wind  could  make  it. 

Nettie  stopped  also,  and  for  a  few  minutes  they  stood 
side  by  side,  gazing  away  across  the  river,  where  could 
be  seen  approaching  a  body  of  horsemen  in  uniform,  and 
riding  at  a  sharp  trot.  Then  Nettie  turned  to  Phil,  and, 
putting  her  two  hands  in  his,  she  looked  him  in  the  face 
and  said  : 

' '  Phil,  I  lo^e  you.  I  have  always  loved  you  and  be 
lieved  in  you,  and  always  will ;  and  I  am  ready  to  be 
your  wife  and  share  your  home.  But  not  you  nor  any 
of  us  will  have  a  home  tomorrow. " 

And  Phil  answered  not  a  word,  for  he  knew  she  spoke 
the  truth.  He,  too,  had  recognized  the  approaching 
horsemen  as  United  States  cavalry,  and  he  knew  they 
could  have  but  one  errand  there  ;  that  they  had  come  a 
second  time  to  evict  the  settlers  from  their  homes.  And 
he  released  Nettie's  hands  without  even  offering  to  seal 
their  betrothal  with  a  kiss. 


244  OTHER    STRANGE    THINGS. 

"A  strange  betrothal,"  did  you  say  ? 

Well — perhaps. 

Strange  conditions  environed  them. 

Those  are  strange  conditions  which  induce — yes, 
compel — men  whose  souls  are  tall  and  strong  and  white 
to  leave  the  settled  portions  of  the  country,  those  loca 
tions  where  the  genius  of  the  race  has  achieved  its 
grandest  triumphs  over  the  forces  of  nature,  and  where 
wealth  is  a  thing  of  so  little  value  that  it  is  heaped  up  in 
stacks  and  measured  by  millions,  and  go  out  into  the 
wilderness,  where  there  is  absolutely  no  wealth,  in  order 
that  they  may  obtain  shelter  and  food  for  themselves 
and  their  families. 

And  yet  more  strange  is  it  when  they  have  done  this 
and  are  peacefully  seeking  by  their  own  labor,  upon 
God's  own  land,  to  build  homes  for  themselves  and  those 
they  love,  that  there  should  come  bands  of  armed  men 
bearing  aloft  the  ensign  of  the  country  of  which  these 
home  builders  are  citizens,  and  burn  their  houses  and 
drive  them  from  the  country. 

Strange,  indeed,  are  these  things — so  strange  that 
one  scarce  can  believe  them  true.  But  when  one  knows 
them  to  be  true,  there  is  nothing  that  can  follow  which 
can  appear  strange,  or  which  can  not  follow  naturally. 

The  apple  blossom  without  fragrance,  the  fruit  all 
withered  upon  the  boughs,  the  tree  dead  and  bare  in  the 
midst  of  green  fields  and  soft  waters — even  these  anoma- 


A    TRYING    ORDEAL.  245 

lies  cease  to  appear  strange  when  it  is  known  that  those 
other  things  can  be,  and  are. 

Nor  is  Oklahoma  the  only  spot  where  the  joyfulness 
of  young  lovers  has  been  stolen  from  them  in  the  very 
moment  of  betrothal ;  where  mothers  have  given  birth 
to  infants  whose  gestation  was  not  yet  complete  ;  where 
men  have  clasped  the  hand  of  Death  and  have  gone  with 
him  from  the  sight  of  those  who  loved  them  and  whom 
they  loved,  because  of  these  things  which  are  here  nar 
rated. 

There  are  ruins  of  coliseums  and  palaces,  of  princi 
palities  and  of  states,  to  be  seen  in  Greece,  Italy  and 
many  other  countries — ruins  which  appear  strange  and 
unaccountable  until  we  remember  that  there,  too,  armed 
men  drove  forth  those  who,  in  obedience  to  the  divine 
law,  sought  to  make  themselves  homes  and  fortunes  by 
the  tilling  of  the  soil. 


The  thoughts  which  were  now  burning  themselves 
through  Phil's  brain  as  he  stood  there  after  letting  go  his 
sweetheart's  proffered  hands  were  plainly  written  on  his 
face,  and  Nettie  read  them  as  from  an  open  book. 

She  saw  the  great  veins  upon  his  forehead  swell,  the 


246  BOR  LOVE'S  SWEET  SAKE. 

fire  of  determination  and  hate  kindle  and  flash  from  his 
eyes,  the  lips  draw  together,  the  hands  clinch,  and  the 
right  hand  lift  as  if  to  draw  a  weapon  from  the  belt,  and 
she  was  frightened — not  at  what  the  fast  approaching 
soldiers  might  do,  but  what  Phil  might  do  in  defense  or 
retaliation. 

Quickly  Nettie's  small  hands  crept  back  into  Phil's 
larger  ones,  and  her  fingers  twined  themselves  about  his, 
as  if  she  would  hold  him  back  from  the  desperate  deeds 
on  which  he  seemed  to  meditate. 

Then  he  stooped  and  kissed  her  upon  the  lips — 
kissed  her  cheeks  and  hair,  put  his  arms  about  her  and 
spoke  lovingly,  albeit  solemnly. 

" Nettie,"  said  he,  "I  know  what  your  fear  is,  and  I 
will  do  no  rash  thing.  For  your  sake  I  will  be  careful, 
and  will  hold  my  life  and  the  lives  of  our  enemies  of 
more  value  than  the  pleasure  of  resistance  to  a  mighty 
wrong.  It  is  an  awful  thing,  this  feeling  that  we  are  be 
ing  wronged  so  deeply  without  power  of  resistance  ;  this 
being  compelled  to  receive  insult  and  injury  without  giv 
ing  a  fitting  answer.  But  it  must  be  so.  Those  soldiers 
come  in  the  name  of  the  law,  and  we  must  respect  the 
law ;  though  if  it  were  not  for  you,  I  think — I  don't 
know — I — I  don't  understand  why  we  may  not  be  left  in 
peace  here— why  the  government  permits  us  to  be  so 
wronged." 

Nettie,  sobbing  upon  his  shoulder,  begged  him  to  be 


GATHERING  FOR  DEFENSE.  24? 

patient.  She  assured  him  all  would  come  right  in  the 
end ;  and  that  maybe,  after  all,  the  soldiers  were  not 
come  to  drive  them  away. 

But  Phil  knew  better  than  to  think  this.  He  well 
knew  there  was  nothing  else  to  bring  them  into  that 
vicinity  in  such  force,  and  he  felt  that  the  worst  might 
be  anticipated. 

He  guessed  that  the  explanation  which  he  and  others 
had  sent  to  Washington  had  not  been  properly  directed, 
or  in  some  way  had  not  reached  its  destination,  and  that 
the  military  were  acting  under  their  previous  orders  to 
keep  the  colonists  out,  and  not  upon  orders  which  were 
newly  received. 

For  a  few  moments  yet  the  lovers  stood  exchanging 
pledges  of  continued  love  and  fealty,  and  might  have 
remained  thus  longer  but  for  the  sound  of  approaching 
horsemen.  So,  after  a  parting  kiss,  they  hastened  to 
ward  Nettie's  home. 

A  moment  later  several  men  on  horseback,  with  rifles 
in  their  hands  and  revolvers  in  their  belts,  came  flying 
across  the  prairie,  headed  in  the  direction  of  the  ford. 

These  men  were  neighbors,  members  of  the  colony, 
who  had  observed  the  approach  of  the  soldiers  and  were 
hurrying  to  meet  them.  They  called  to  Phil,  as  they  flew 
past,  to  get  his  rifle  and  come  on. 

Looking  to  the  right  and  left,  Phil  and  Nettie  could 
see  others  of  the  colonists,  some  afoot  and  others  astride 


248         MEN  THREATEN — WOMEN  WEEP. 

horses  or  mules  from  which  the  harness  had  been  hastily 
stripped,  riding  and  running  and  gathering  on  the  bank 
of  the  river.  And  they,  too,  hurried  as  fast  as  they 
could,  even  running  the  last  part  of  the  way,  and  soon 
reached  the  ford,  at  which  the  people — men,  women  and 
children — were  now  gathering. 

Few  of  the  men  but  had  brought  their  armsv  and  all 
those  who  had  not  were  being  urged  to  return  to  their 
cabins  for  them. 

Threats  that  the  soldiers  should  never  cross  the  river 
were  heard  from  some,  while  others  proposed  that  each 
man  return  to  his  own  cabin,  barricade  his  door,  and 
refuse  to  be  arrested  or  evicted  under  any  circumstances. 

Some  of  the  women  were  wringing  their  hands  and 
weeping  ;  others  were  following  their  husbands  or  sons 
about,  pleading  with  them  to  do  nothing  rash.  Infants 
were  carried  in  arms,  and  children  crying  with  excite 
ment  clung  to  their  agonized  mothers. 

The  leader  or  president  of  the  colony  was  not  pres 
ent,  he  having,  as  it  chanced,  gone  out  for  an  afternoon 
hunt  across  the  prairie,  from  which  he  had  not  as  yet 
returned ;  and  when  Phil  entered  the  excited  group  quite 
a  number  turned  to  him  for  counsel  and  advice,  for  he 
had  come  to  have  influence  among  them. 

Gathering  about  him,  they  asked  :  ' '  What  shall  we 
do  ?  They  are  coming  to  arrest  us  again,  and  if  they  do 
the  cattlemen  will  burn  our  houses  as  soon  as  we  are  out 


AN    EXCITED    CROWD.  249 

of  the  way.  Our  crops  will  be  destroyed  and  our  settle 
ment  broken  up." 

"  Fight  'em — that  's  my  advice  !"  called  out  one  who 
had  just  reached  the  group. 

tl They  're  nigger  troops,  anyway!"  shouted  one  of 
the  men. 

This  announcement  caused  fresh  tremors  to  extend 
through  the  crowd. 

' '  I  fought  four  years  to  free  the  niggers, "  shouted  a 

colonist,  "  and  I  '11  be  d d  if  any  crowd  of  niggers  is 

going  to  oust  me  when  I  'm  minding  my  own  business 
and  disturbing  nobody." 

That  this  sentiment  was  generally  approved  was  evi 
denced  quickly. 

"I  'm  with  you,  old  comrade." 

"  Your  head  's  level  there." 

"That  's  the  way  to  talk  it." 

These  exclamations  came  indiscriminately  from  the 
crowd  of  excited  men  and  weeping  women  and  children 
gathered  upon  the  river  bank,  watching  the  approach  of 
the  colored  troops  sent  to  evict  them  a  second  time  from 
their  homes. 

Phil  felt  his  whole  soul  respond  to  this  warlike  spirit 
of  the  more  reckless  of  the  crowd. 

He  had  spent  so  much  of  his  life  among  those  whose 
hands  are  for  ever  playing  with  the  butts  of  their  revolv 
ers,  had  seen  so  much  of  force  and  so  little  of  any  thing 


25O  PHIL   MAKES   A   SPEECH, 

else,  as  a  governing  power,  that  he  hardly  knew  there 
was  any  other  way  of  opposing  the  wrong  or  protecting 
the  right  except  with  fire-arms. 

The  slave  bred  and  born  in  slavery  feels  but  slightly 
the  weight  of  his  chain  as  compared  with  him  whose 
limbs  it  chafes  for  the  first  time,  and  while  in  the  full 
possession  of  health  and  strength  and  with  a  knowledge 
of  freedom's  worth. 

Phil's  whole  soul  cried  out  in  wrathful  protest  against 
the  indignity  and  wrong  now  threatening  them.  His 
hand  clinched  involuntarily,  and  the  fire  of  mighty  anger 
flashed  from  his  eyes.  But  before  he  had  given  expres 
sion  to  the  thoughts  and  feelings  which  were  burning  for 
utterance  a  small,  soft  hand  from  out  the  crowd  touched 
his.  Looking  down,  he  saw  Nettie's  anxious  eyes  and 
tear-stained  face  turned  up  to  his,  and  at  once  his  anger 
cooled,  and  instead  of  urging  his  companions  to  prepare 
for  fight  he  pleaded  with  them  to  be  patient  and  keep 
cool,  and  so  do  nothing  rashly. 

At  first  his  voice  was  hoarse  and  his  words  came  with 
an  effort,  but  as  his  anger  died  out  it  took  a  smoother 
tone,  and  then  became  soft  and  flexible,  with  a  strange 
power  to  sway  the  excited  feelings  of  his  fellow  back 
woodsmen. 

Phil  felt  a  mild  surprise  at  this.  He  was  surprised, 
first,  that  he  could  speak  after  this  fashion,  and  then 
that  his  words  should  have  such  power  over  his  compan- 


A   NATURAL   LEADER.  3$  I 

ions.  He  had  not  suspected  himself  of  possessing  such 
oratorical  ability,  and  he  knew  nothing  of  the  power  that 
lies  in  the  word,  if  strongly  asserted,  to  compel  obedi 
ence  ;  and  he  was,  therefore,  as  much  surprised  at  the 
effect  of  his  speaking  as  he  had  time  to  be. 

Having  calmed  the  excitement  in  a  measure  and  hav 
ing  brought  order  out  of  confusion,  he  was  on  the  point 
of  proposing  that  a  committee  be  selected  to  ride  forward 
and  meet  the  approaching  soldiers,  when  the  leader  of 
the  colony  arrived,  and  to  him  Phil  resigned  the  author 
ity  with  which  circumstances  and  his  own  recognized 
fitness  had  momentarily  invested  him. 

This  man  whom  the  colonists  called  their  leader  was 
.aot  one  having  any  autocratic  authority  over  them.  He 
was  the  one  who  presided  at  their  meetings  held  for  the 
purpose  of  deciding  upon  business  of  interest  to  the  col 
ony,  at  which  each  head  of  a  family  was  entitled  to  a 
voice  and  a  vote. 

He  was  their  guide  and  spokesman.  He  was  their 
leader  in  the  sense  of  one  who  goes  ahead.  But  he  was 
not  one  who  had  autocratic  power  to  compel  others  to 
follow.  If  they  followed,  they  did  so  because  they  were 
pleased  to  follow,  confident  that  they  were  being  led  in 
the  way  they  themselves  had  decided  to  go,  and  not  be 
cause  they  were  ordered  to  do  so. 

But  this  man  was  a  natural  leader  of  men  as  well. 
He  had  that  quick  perception  of  what  is  necessary  and 


ON   COME  THE  TROOPS. 

best  to  do  on  occasion,  and  also  jin  air  of  knowing  that 
he  knew,  which  showed  itself  in  every  word  and  move 
ment,  and  inspired  that  confidence  in  others  which  in 
times  of  unusual  happenings  gave  him  a  power  that  was 
autocratic  so  long  as  exercised  within  limits  which  per 
mitted  those  over  whom  it  was  exercised  to  retain  their 
self-respect  unimpaired. 

This  man  did  not  await  the  appointing  of  a  commit 
tee.  He  took  command  as  by  right,  and  with  one  word 
produced  quiet.  Then  he  said,  in  a  voice  that  betrayed 
no  trace  of  excitement  or  fear : 

"If  the  rest  of  you  will  remain  here,  Mr.  Johnson 
and  I  will  ride  forward  and  see  what  the  troops  want. 
We  will  report  to  you  as  soon  as  we  ascertain  the  situa 
tion." 

To  Phil  he  said  : 

"Come  with  me.  If  you  have  no  horse  here,  one  of 
the  men  will  lend  you  his." 

With  this  Capt.  Paine  turned  away  and  rode  down 
the  bank  into  the  river. 

Phil  borrowed  a  horse  and  joined  him  before  gaining 
the  opposite  shore,  and  together  their  animals  clambered 
up  the  bank  and  cantered  away,  side  by  side,  to  meet 
the  troops,  now  only  a  few  hundred  rods  distant. 

When  they  had  approached  quite  near,  the  Lieuten 
ant  in  command  of  the  troops,  who  were  part  of  a  black 
regiment  that  for  some  months  past  had  been  stationed 


"WE  'VE  COME  FOR  YOU  AGAIN."  2J3 

on  the  frontier,  rode  forward  accompanied  by  an  orderly, 
and  both  sides  saluted  with  proper  courtesy. 

Then,  wheeling  their  horses,  the  two  colonists  fell  in 
line  with  the  Lieutenant  and  orderly,  and  rode  back  a 
little  in  advance  of  the  company  of  regulars,  whose  nags 
had  dropped  to  a  walk. 

The  Lieutenant  was  the  first  to  speak.  His  manner 
was  not  lacking  in  politeness,  but  his  words  carried  an 
awful  meaning. 

"  You  see  that  we  've  come  for  you  again." 

"  I  supposed  that  was  your  purpose,"  replied  the 
Seader  of,  the  colonists,  ' '  as  I  could  not  think  of  any 
other  errand  you  could  have  down  this  way.  I  hoped  the 
explanation  that  we  made  and  forwarded  to  Washington 
on  the  other  occasion  would  prove  sufficient  to  save  us 
further  trouble,  but  it  appears  to  have  failed,  in  some 
manner." 

* '  Who  gave  the  order  for  driving  us  out  of  the  coun 
try  ?"  asked  Phil. 

* '  Orders  to  me  came  from  my  superior  officers, "  an 
swered  the  Lieutenant,  "and  that  is  all  I  am  supposed 
to  know.  However,  I  learned  that  they  originated  in 
Washington  ;  indeed,  they  could  not  well  originate  any 
where  else." 

"Do  you  mean  to  say,"  asked  Phil,  a  little  excitedly, 
"  that  the  government — that  is,  the  President — ordered 
that  WB  be  taken  out,  after  the  explanation  we  made 


254  PLYING    QUERIES. 

under  oath  the  other  time  ?"  Though  not  so  intended, 
Phil's  words  nettled  the  officer. 

4 '  I  don't  mean  to  say  any  thing  about  it, "  replied  the 
officer,  hotly.  "  All  I  care  to  know  is,  that  I  have  orders 
from  those  whom  I  am  bound  to  obey  to  take  you  out  of 
here,  and  that  you  are  going." 

The  words  and  the  manner  of  the  officer  rasped  both 
men,  but  they  managed  to  contain  themselves,  although 
Phil  was  compelled  to  call  up  Nettie's  words  and  looks 
before  he  could  choke  back  the  hot  retort  that  sprang  to 
his  lips. 

His  companion,  more  accustomed  to  self-command, 
answered  without  apparent  feeling  that  he  regretted  that 
such  orders  had  been  issued.  "Could  there  be  found," 
he  asked,  * '  some  way  by  which  the  matter  can  be  held 
in  abeyance  for  a  time,  so  the  colonists  can  be  left  in 
possession  of  their  homes  until  communication  can  be 
held  with  the  President  of  the  United  States,  who  cer 
tainly  is  laboring  under  a  misapprehension  regarding  the 
matter,  and  an  effort  made  to  secure  the  revocaticp  c* 
the  order  ?" 

"I  have  no  orders  of  that  kind,"  replied  the  Liey- 
tenant. 

"But  could  you  delay  a  little?  I  will  send  to  th* 
nearest  telegraph  office  a  man  mounted  on  the  swiftes* 
horse  in  the  settlement,  or  will  go  myself,  and  there  tele 
graph  a  full  account  of  the  nature  of  our  claims,  an<? 


NO    RESPITE,  355 

who  we  are  and  just  where  we  are  located,  to  the  Presi 
dent,  and  ask  him  if  it  is  with  his  approval  that  we  are 
to  be  evicted.  If  he  says  it  is,  we  will  leave  peaceably  ; 
if  he  says  not,  and  countermands  the  order,  then  you 
will  be  relieved  of  its  execution." 

' '  Can't  do  it, "  answered  the  Lieutenant.  * '  I  tell  you 
I  have  my  orders  to  take  you  and  your  families — every 
body — out  of  here,  and  to  take  you  to  Fort  Reno.  And 
these  orders  I  must  obey,  without  waiting  three  or  four 
days  or  weeks,  trying  to  get  the  President  to  counter 
mand  the  order." 


By  this  time  they  had  reached  the  ford  on  thi  Cana 
dian  River. 

Plunging  in,  the   troops  crossed  the  river,  and  fame 
up  the  opposite  bank  a  few  rods  below  where  the  f 
of  colonists  stood. 


CHAPTER  XVII. 

THE    LEADER   AND    MR.    M'KINLEY   MAKE    SPEECHES — TIED 
TO   THEIR    WAGONS    WITH    ROPES. 

After  talking  still  further  with  the  Lieutenant,  with 
out  receiving  any  encouragement  from  him,  or  promise 
that  time  would  be  given,  or  delay  made  in  the  execu 
tion  of  his  orders,  the  two  men  returned  to  their  waiting 
companions,  and  sorrowfully  reported  the  state  of  affairs 
to  them. 

"We  are,"  said  their  leader,  "again  arrested,  and 
the  officer  declares  he  has  orders  to  again  take  us  to  Fort 
Reno,  beyond  which  he  has  no  authority,  and  no  knowl 
edge  of  what  is  intended. 

' '  My  friends,  I  know  with  what  feelings  of  grief  and 
indignation  you  learn  this.  I  am  myself  overwhelmed 
with  grief  and  indignation  for  you  and  for  myself.  Why 
government  permits  it  is  something  difficult  to  under- 

(256) 


THE  LEADER  MAKES    A  SPEECH.  2$f 

Stand,  but  doubtless  it  is  because  it  has  not  had  full  and 
complete  knowledge  upon  the  subject.  It  can  not  be 
possible  that  it  is  the  settled  policy  of  the  administration 
to  turn  over  this  whole  Territory,  containing  about  all 
there  is  remaining^pf  valuable  agricultural  land,  to  a  few 
foreign  cattle  companies  and  Eastern  capitalists  ;  and  it 
must  be,  therefore,  that  when  the  facts  are  known  at 
Washington  we  will  be  reinstated  in  possession  of  our 
claims,  and  full  reparation  made  us  for  all  the  losses  we 
have  suffered  or  may  suffer. 

"I  have  not  forgotten  that  I  said  this  same  thing  be 
fore,  when  we  were  arrested,  and  I  thought  we  had  taken 
the  steps  necessary  to  at  least  prevent  our  again  being 
disturbed.  But  it  seems  now  that  we  were  not  thorough 
enough  ;  that  we  should  have  done  more,  in  some  way, 
to  make  plain  the  fact  that  we  are  not  violaters  of  the 
law,  but  peaceful  citizens,  claiming  protection  from  it. 

"If  we  can  not  induce  the  officer  in  command  of 
these  troops  to  delay,  then  there  is  but  the  one  thing  left 
as.  We  must  again  submit  to  being  conveyed  out  of  the 
Territory. 

' '  We  make  no  promise  not  to  return,  and  we  never 
will  make  such  promise.  On  the  contrary,  we  proclaim 
our  unalterable  determination  to  come  back,  to  hold  on 
to  our  claims  and  to  assert  our  right,  and  the  right  of  all 
citizens  who  desire  to  do  so,  to  come  here  and  take  up  a 
claim  and  improve  it,  and  live  upon  it. 


2$8  WISE  COUNSEL  HEEDED. 

"I  beg  of  you  to  be  patient.  All  will  yet  be  well. 
We  will  yet  live  to  see  our  wrongs  righted,  and  see  our 
Oklahoma  one  of  the  finest  States  in  the  Union,  and 
you  who  have  borne  the  heat  and  burden  of  the  contest 
shall  be  honored  and  rewarded  as  you  deserve. 

"I  shall  be  glad  now  if  some  of  you,  say  a  commit 
tee  of  five,  will  go  to  the  officer  who  is  in  command  of 
the  troops,  and  see  if  it  is  possible  to  make  a  compro 
mise  by  which  ourselves  and  families  may  be  benefited. 
In  doing  so,  any  committee  which  you  appoint  will  have 
but  two  things  to  bear  in  mind  : 

"First — That  we,  having  an  inalienable  legal  right 
to  the  claims  which  we  have  pre-empted,  need  not  feel 
ashamed  at  being  arrested,  nor  at  any  thing  which  may 
follow. 

"  Second — That  the  officer  in  command  is  under  or 
ders  from  his  superior,  and  to  violate  them  may  cause 
him  to  be  court-martialed  and  dismissed  the  service." 

While  Capt.  Paine  was  thus  speaking,  many  of  the 
men  crowded  about  him.  They  listened  to  his  address 
attentively  and  without  interruption,  but  some  there  were 
who  held  back  and  were  evidently  little  disposed  to  sub 
mit  quietly  to  being  again  driven  from  their  claims. 

This  contingent  would  have  been  better  pleased  had 
their  leader  counseled  resistance  to  the  death.  Even  as 
it  was,  they  might  have  stood  out  against  eviction,  but 
for  the  pleadings  of  the  women,  who,  for  the  moment? 


AN  OLD  LINE   DEMOCRAT.  259 

lost  sight  of  every  thing  else  in  the  fear  that  their  loved 
ones  might  be  killed,  and  with  tears  and  pleadings  held 
them  back  from  the  desperate  deeds  they  might  other 
wise  have  done. 

The  committee  of  five  suggested  by  the  leader  was 
selected,  and  repaired  at  once  to  where  the  officers  were 
awaiting  the  arrival  of  their  camp  equipage,  the  wagons 
containing  which  had  not  yet  come  up. 

As  no  one  of  the  others  upon  the  committee  felt  any 
great  confidence  in  his  ability  as  a  spokesman,  Mr. 
McKinley,  who  was  one  of  them,  assumed  the  responsi 
bility  of  that  position.  He  felt  confident  that  he  could 
salute  the  officer  with  proper  decorum  and  state  lucidly 
their  mission. 

Being,  like  his  father  before  him,  an  old  line  Demo 
crat,  with  a  genealogical  tree  which  was  fondly  believed 
to  have  first  taken  root  somewhere  in  the  sacred  soil  of 
Kentucky,  he  felt  with  especial  keenness  the  threatened 
indignity  of  being  arrested  and  evicted  by  colored  troops. 
He  felt  that,  if  the  committee  should  be  unable  to  pre 
serve  the  rights  of  the  colony,  he  could  at  least  preserve 
its  dignity  ;  and  there  was  a  little  more  than  the  usual 
amount  of  stiffness  in  his  manner  as  he  addressed  the 
officer,  after  saluting  him. 

With  a  dignified  wave  of  his  hand  in  the  direction  of 
the  people  on  the  river  bank,  he  said  : 

"We  have  come,  Sir,  Mr.  Officer,  as  the  representa- 


a6o  MR.  M'KINLEY'S  SPEECH. 

tives  of  those  people,  Sir.     Yes,   Sir,   their  represent* 
tives,  Sir — authorized,    as   you   may   say,  to  speak  for 
them.     And  we  come  a-axin'  for  justice;  yes,  Sir,  for 
justice. 

"We  are  here,  Sir,  Mr.  Officer,  a-claimin'  rights  as 
citizens — as  citizens,  Sir — which  has  always  done  their 
duty  to  their  country  and  been  loyal  to  their  flag.  Yes, 
Sir. 

"Some  of  us  has  been  honored  by  the  Common 
wealth  in  which  we  have  lived  in  the  past ;  yes,  Sir,  been 
honored  by  the  Commonwealth.  If  you  don't  believe 
it,  just  you  come  down  to  my  cabin,  and  I  '11  show  you 
a  document  sealed  with  the  seal  of  the  great  State  of 
Indiana  and  the  great  State  of  Illinois,  in  which  is  set 
forth  the  fact — yes,  Sir,  the  fact — that  some  of  us  are 
known  to  be  worthy  of  the  confidence  and  esteem  of — of 
— of  everybody,  Sir  ;  which,  I  reckon,  makes  us  the  ekil 
of  a  nigger  soldier,  if  not  of  them  as  commands  'em. 
And  we  intend,  as  soon  as  the  country  about  here  gits 
settled  up — which  will  be  as  soon  as  it  gits  narrated 
around  that  this  here  is  gov'ment  land — fer  to  have  a 
ferry  across  the  river  here.  Yes,  Sir,  a  ferry  ;  and  we 
are  a-goin'  to  build  a  town  up  there  on  that  there  raise 
of  ground  there  ;  yes,  Sir.  We  are  a-goin'  to  do  things 
up  as  they  ought  to  be  done,  and  to  cause  this  wilder 
ness  to  blossom  as  the  hollyhock — yes,  Sir,  as  the  holly- 
bock. 


WASTED    ELOQUENCE.  JO 

"Now,  Sir,  Mr.  Officer,  do  you  suppose  that  we  are 
such  rantankerous  villains  as  to  go  and  vi'late  the  law,  if 
we  did  n't  know  that  we  had  a  right  to  settle  here  ?  No, 
Sir — not  by  a  large  majority.  We  are  truly  loyal  citi 
zens,  Sir — all  on  us-— and  we  want  you  to  reckonize  that 
fact  and  take  your  nigger  soldiers  out  of  here,  Sir — yes, 
Sir,  out  of  here — and  leave  us  in  peace  to  set  under  our 
own  vine  and  fig  tree." 

Considerably  to  Mr.  McKinley's  surprise,  this  perora 
tion  failed  to  have  any  particular  effect  upon  the  officer, 
except  that  his  face  assumed  an  expression  of  weariness 
and  contempt. 

Nor  did  any  of  the  other  members  of  the  committee 
appear  any  more  able  to  move  him  to  delay  action  or  to 
retire  without  accomplishing  the  purpose  for  which  he 
had  been  sent. 

He,  however,  consented  to  allow  the  colonists  to 
return  to  their  homes  for  the  night,  the  members  of  the 
committee  being  told  to  consider  themselves  under  arrest 
and  to  report  at  the  officer's  quarters  on  the  following 
morning. 

Such  was  the  report  which  the  committee  was  forced 
to  make. 

The  evening  was  now  becoming  dark — too  dark  even 
to  see  each  other's  face  distinctly  at  a  few  paces  distance 
— and  the  little  crowd  slowly  and  with  heavy  hearts  dis 
persed.  Some  went  directly  to  their  homes,  but  others 


302  TBN    DAYS'    DELAY. 

lingered  by  the  way  and  stopped  to  talk  over  the  situa 
tion  with  this  or  that  one  of  their  neighbors.  Ail  took 
with  them  the  feeling  that  nothing  could  be  done  to 
avert  the  calamity  which  had  befallen  them,  and  many 
began  at  once  to  pack  their  household  goods  into  shape 
for  loading  into  the  wagons  preparatory  to  the  orders  to 
move  out,  which  they  expected  would  be  issued  early  on 
the  morrow. 

However,  they  were  not  ordered  to  move  the  next 
day,  nor  the  next,  nor  yet  the  next. 

When  the  committee  of  the  day  previous,  together 
with  Phil  Johnson  and  Capt.  Paine,  who  had  also  been 
ordered  to  report  as  under  arrest,  did  so,  a  guard  was  at 
once  placed  over  them. 

These  men  were  kept  thus  for  ten  days,  while  all  the 
remainder  of  the  colonists  were  allowed  to  come  and  go 
as  they  chose,  but  always  with  athe  understanding  that 
they  were  to  be  ordered  to  move  the  next  day. 

Whether  the  object  had  in  view  was  to  induce  them 
to  leave  secretly,  and  so  save  the  trouble  of  conducting 
them  out,  is  not  known.  The  unexplained  delay  is  a  fact 
of  history. 

On  the  morning  of  the  tenth  day  after  the  arrival  of 
the  troops  the  order  to  move  was  actually  given,  and  the 
whole  array  pulled  across  the  river  and  headed  for  Fort 
Reno. 

And  now  the  indignity  of  bein^g  tied  with  ropes  to  the 


TIED  TO  THEIR  WAGONS.  $63 

hind  end  of  their  wagons  and  compelled  to  march  in  the 
dust  and  dirt,  between  guards  with  loaded  carbines,  was 
inflicted  upon  all  who  were  recognized  as  in  any  degree 
leaders  among  the  colonists,  while  the  women  were 
treated,  if  not  witlropen  indignity,  yet  with  a  lack  of  the 
courtesy  commonly  recognized  as  due  them. 

Crowded  into  the  wagons  with  their  household  goods 
and  compelled  to  sit  all  the  day  through,  they  and  their 
children,  without  opportunity  to  move  about  or  stretch 
their  weary  limbs,  sometimes  without  water  to  quench 
their  thirst,  and  surrounded  by  brutal  soldiers  whose 
color,  if  it  did  not  prevent  them  from  being  good  sol 
diers,  certainly  added  nothing  toward  inspiring  confi 
dence  in  the  breasts  of  these  women  who  were  now  their 
prisoners — such  were  the  conditions  and  surroundings 
under  which  they  were  taken  back  along  the  trail  which 
they  had  once  before  traversed  to  Fort  Reno. 

Phil  Johnson  was  among  those  tied  to  the  tail  end  of 
a  wagon,  and  again  Nettie's  pleading  eyes  and  voice  pre 
vented  the  enactment  of  a  tragedy. 

But  the  eyes  and  voice  which  were  so  effective  in 
preventing  her  lover  from  rushing  upon  death  in  defense 
of  his  bodily  freedom,  or  in  revenge  for  the  exasperating 
indignity  done  to  him,  had  no  effect  upon  the  officer  in 
command  to  induce  him  to  countermand  his  order  to  tie 
the  men  to  the  wagons. 

The  sagacious  Lieutenant  had  been  careful  to  see 


264  DRIVEN    LIKE    CATTLE. 

that  all  those  who  were  to  be  humiliated  had  first  been 
deprived  of  their  knives  and  revolvers  before  the  order  to 
tie  them  was  given. 

And  thus  like  cattle  were  they  driven  away  across  the 
prairie,  along  the  beautiful  table  lands  and  by  the  clear 
streams,  until  they  reached  Fort  Reno,  where  such  of 
the  men  as  were  supposed  to  have  influence  with  their 
fellow  colonists  and  would  be  likely  to  use  it  to  induce 
them  to  return  to  their  claims  if  released  were  again  con 
signed  to  military  prison. 

During  the  period  of  their  incarceration  they  were 
compelled  to  sleep  on  the  floor,  without  blankets  or  bed 
ding  of  any  kind,  and  without  being  permitted  to  talk 
with  their  friends  outside  or  to  send  letters  or  telegrams, 
or  in  any  way  communicate  with  the  government  at 
Washington  or  with  the  civil  authorities  of  the  State  of 
Kansas. 

As  for  the  remainder  of  the  colonists,  they  were  sim 
ply  held  in  camp  by  guards,  and  were  fed  on  rations  that 
were  issued  from  the  commissary  department  of  the  army 
at  the  fort. 

After  five  days  had  elapsed,  the  larger  portion  of  the 
colonists,  including  the  women  and  children,  were  again 
put  upon  the  march,  and  were  conducted  to  the  Kansas 
State  line  and  then  turned  loose,  much  as  on  the  former 
occasion,  and  without  any  formal  charge  of  any  kind  be 
ing  made  against  them. 


INTO  THE  RED  RIVER.  20$ 

After  these  had  been  gotten  fairly  off,  those  who  had 
been  kept  in  confinement  were  brought  out,  mounted  on 
their  own  horses,  put  in  charge  of  a  squad  of  soldiers 
and  conveyed  the  long  journey  of  nearly  150  miles  to  the 
Red  River,  which  ^forms  the  boundary  line  between  the 
Indian  Territory  and  the  State  of  Texas,  and  driven  into 
the  river  by  their  guards,  who  from  the  bank  watched 
them  half-way  across  and  then  turned  and  rode  away  in 
the  direction  of  the  fort  from  which  they  had  come. 

Without  crossing  to  the  other  side,  or  so  much  as 
getting  foot  on  Texas  soil,  these  men  turned  about,  when 
they  saw  the  soldiers  retire,  and  returned  to  the  Territory 
side  of  the  river,  where  they  camped  for  the  night. 

The  next  morning  they  took  up  the  trail  of  tneir 
guards,  followed  it  as  long  as  it  lay  in  nearly  a  direct  line 
with  their  Oklahoma  claims,  and  then  leaving  it,  they 
branched  off  to  the  right,  and  two  days  later  reached  the 
deserted  settlement,  where  they  slept  one  night  in  the 
McKinley  cabin  on  the  bank  of  the  river. 

They  had  entertained  a  faint  hope  that  a  portion  of 
the  colonists  might  have  returned  there,  but  it  was  only 
a  faint  one,  and  they  were  not  greatly  disappointed  at 
finding  norie  of  them  had  done  so,  as  they  knew  that, 
even  if  so  disposed,  there  had  probably  been  scant  t^rne 
for  them  to  return  from  the  Kansas  State  line,  whiter 
they  guessed  them  io  have  been  taken. 

Early  th«  next  rr*<)/ning  the  party  began  their  o\m 


266  THE   COLONISTS   SCATTERING. 

ride  to  the  State  line,  in  search  of  their  lost  families  and 
friends. 

Just  where  to  look  for  them  they  did  not  know,  but, 
believing  them  to  be  somewhere  in  Kansas,  they  struck 
out  for  Caldwell,  at  which  place  they  were  enabled  to 
learn  at  what  point  the  troops  having  them  in  charge  had 
entered  the  State. 

Again  mounting  their  animals,  after  a  night  spent  at 
Caldwell,  they  rode  west  along  the  border  line  between 
the  State  and  Territory  a  distance  of  nearly  fifty  miles, 
and  there  found  those  for  whom  they  were  searching,  or 
a  portion  of  them. 

Not  all  the  colonists  brought  out  by  the  troops  had 
remained  together. 

A  portion  were  disheartened.  They  were  out  of  both 
money  and  provisions  and  utterly  incapable  of  making  an 
immediate  attempt  to  again  enter  Oklahoma  and  take 
possession  of  their  claims,  and  had  moved  on  up  into  the 
State  in  search  of  temporary  employment  for  themselves 
and  their  teams,  or  had  started  to  make  their  way  back 
to  the  neighborhoods  from  which  they  had  originally 
emigrated. 

A  considerable  number,  however,  had  remained  to 
gether,  and  among  them  were  the  McKinleys. 

Mr.  McKinley  and  Phil  found  them  in  camp,  and  in 
possession,  with  others,  of  an  old  shed,  which  they  had 
been  given  the  use  of  by  a  farmer  for  whom  the  McKin- 


NETTIE'S  RESOLVE.  267 

ley  boys  and  several  others  of  the  company  were  at  work 
shucking  corn. 


Not  knowing  what  had  become  of  those  left  behind 
when  they  were  themselves  conveyed  north  from  Fort 
Reno,  they  had  decided  to  wait  where  they  were  until 
they  heard  from  them,  or,  failing  to  hear  from  them 
soon,  to  take  steps  toward  their  liberation. 

Nettie  had  declared  that  she  would  go  to  Washington 
and  present  the  case  to  the  President  or  to  Congress,  or 
to  somebody  who  had  authority,  if  her  father  and  lover 
Were  not  soon  released  from  prison  and  permitted  to 
rejoin  them. 

In  this  resolve  the  brave  young  woman  was  rather 
encouraged  than  discouraged  by  her  mother,  and  it  is 
probable  that  she  would  have  made  the  attempt  had  they 
not  arrived  within  a  day  or  two  from  the  date  of  their 
qppeararce. 


268  TOLERABLY  COMFORTABLE. 

As  it  was,  the  family  had  acted  upon  the  knowledge 
that  if  the  two  men  were  released  soon  they  would  seek 
for  them  somewhere  not  far  from  the  same  territorial  line 
across  which  they  had  been  driven,  and  the  young  men 
having  sought  for  and  found  employment,  at  wages  that 
would  keep  the  family  from  want,  they  had  accepted  the 
offer  of  the  use  of  the  shed  in  which  they  were,  and 
which,  with  the  wagons  to  sleep  in,  enabled  them  to  be 
tolerably  comfortable  for  the  time  being. 


'HERS  THBY  AJ-L  ARZ.' 


CHAPTER    XVIII. 


PHIL  AND  NETTIE  REUNITED — MR.    M'KINLEY  ILLUSTRATES 
THE   DIGNITY   OF   LABOR. 

The  meeting  between  Phil  and  Nettie  on  the  return 
of  the  former  from  his  enforced  trip  to  the  Red  River 
was  not  very  different  from  the  meeting  of  other  lovers, 
and  the  scene  may  well  be  intrusted  to  the  imagination 
or  to  memory. 

Nettie  was  at  work  in  the  shed,  occupied  in  common 
by  four  or  five  families  to  cook  and  eat  under,  they  sleep 
ing  at  night  in  their  wagons. 

It  was  neither  more  nor  less  than  a  shed  intended  as 
shelter  for  cattle  from  the  fury  of  the  blizzards  which 
occasionally  sweep  over  the  prairies  in  winter,  and /with 
out  which  cattle  are  apt  to  drift  away,  and  at  times  to 
becoms  severely  frozen. 

This  shed  stood  in  a  corn  field  eighty  or  one  hundred 


270  MEETING  OF  THE  LOVERS. 

acres  in  extent,  and  was  far  enough  from  the  road  to  ren 
der  it  difficult  to  see  any  one  that  might  be  approaching 
until  he  was  quite  opposite  to  the  people  standing  in  the 
shed.  Therefore,  the  approach  of  Phil  Johnson  and  his 
party  was  unobserved  until  they  had  entered  the  corn 
field  and,  riding  through  the  tall  corn,  were  but  a  few 
rods  distant. 

Then,  hearing  an  unusual  rustling  among  the  dried 
corn  blades,  some  member  looked  out,  and  at  once  the 
cry  went  up  : 

"Here  they  come!" 

"Here  's  Phil  Johnson !" 

"  Here  's  our  leader!" 

-Here's  Mr.  McKinley !" 

"Here  they  all  are!" 

Then  wives  bounded  forward,  children  came  running, 
men  sprang  from  their  saddles  and  everybody  gathered 
about  them.  Those  who  were  husbands  and  fathers 
kissed  their  wives  and  took  their  little  ones  in  their  arms 
and  hugged  them  and  set  them  upon  their  horses  or  on 
their  own  shoulders,  and  all  asked  questions  and  all  an 
swered  at  once,  and  many  laughed  and  some  cried,  and 
all  were  for  the  moment  supremely  happy. 

In  the  midst  of  it  all,  Phil  whispered  to  Nettie  to 
come  and  help  him  stake  out  his  pony,  and  as  soon  as 
they  had  put  two  rows  of  corn  between  themselves  and 
the  others  he  took  he?  hand  and  held  it  close,  and  to* 


READER,    FILL  fHE   BLANK.  3/1 

gether  they  led  the  pony  around  on  the  other  side  of  the 
shed  and  made  him  fast.  Nettie  patted  the  pony's  neck 
and  rubbed  his  nose,  and  finally  kissed  him,  at  which 
Phil  made  motions  signifying  that  he  was  as  good  as  the 
pony,  and  then  Nettie 

But  what  does  the  reader  expect  ?  Has  he  not  been 
warned  that  this  narrative  will  not  go  into  the  details  of 
Phil  and  Nettie's  courtship  ? 

When  Phil  reappeared  avxi  mingled  with  the  others 
at  meal  time,  he  tried  to,  and  possibly  did,  look  as  inno 
cent  of  having  kissed  anybody  as  his  pony,  munching  his 
corn  stalks  around  on  the  other  side  of  the  shed,  and  no 
one  should  be  accused  without  evidence. 

Neither  is  it  known  how  Nettie  managed  to  get  back 
to  her  family  and  the  little  crowd  in  and  about  the  front 
of  the  shed  without  attracting  attention  to  her  coming. 

It  is  thought,  however,  that  she  went,  first,  to  her 
father's  wagon  and  got  therefrom  some  article  that  may 
or  may  not  have  been  neeaecl  for  use  in  the  shed,  and 
returned  there  with  it,  and  with  a  look  of  knowing  as 
little  of  any  thing  having  occurred  at  the  back  of  the 
shed  as  Phil  Johnson  or  his  pony  ;  and  if  she  had  been 
asked  about  it  there  is  no  doubt  she  would  have  feigned 
as  much  ignorance  of  the  matter  as  either  of  them. 

That  night,  after  such  of  the  colonists  as  had  found 
work  in  the  neighborhood  had  returned  to  their  families, 
an  informal  talk  regarding  the  future  was  held,  and  it 


BECOMING   SUSPICIOUS. 

was  decided  not  to  make  an  effort  to  return  to  Oklahoma 
until  the  following  spring. 

Their  claims  would  not  lapse  by  reason  of  an  absence 
of  any  thing  less  than  six  months,  and  they  could  remain 
in  Kansas  during  the  winter,  working  at  whatever  they 
could  find  to  do  to  make  a  living  for  their  families,  and 
perchance  get  a  little  stock  of  provisions  ahead  with 
which  to  start  life  again  upon  their  claims  when  they 
should  return  to  them. 

They  had  learned  that  they  could  get  employment 
with  their  teams  upon  a  new  railroad  which  was  being 
built  farther  up  in  the  State.  To  that  point  most  of  the 
stranded  boomers  repaired,  and  among  them  Phil  and 
the  McKinleys. 

Before  going  it  was  agreed  that  they  should  meet  at 
Caldwell  at  a  certain  time,  prepared  to  again  enter  Okla 
homa,  with  as  many  added  colonists  as  they  could  induce 
to  join  them. 

There  was  no  talk  of  not  returning  by  any  one. 

It  was  only  a  question  of  when  they  could  gather  to 
gether  enough  upon  which  to  subsist  until  a  crop  could 
be  raised. 

They  were  beginning  to  be  suspicious  that  their  being 
driven  out  of  the  country  was  not  wholly  the  result  of  a 
mistake;  that  there  were  those  higher  in  authority  than 
they  had  first  supposed  who  were  interested  in  prevent 
ing  the  settlement  of  Oklahoma  and  the  Cherokee  Strip, 


NOT   DISHEARTENED.  273 

and  in  keeping  them  as  herding  grounds  for  cattle,  until 
some  way  could  be  found  or  made  for  making  permanent 
in  the  cattle  kings  the  title  to  these  immense  tracts,  thus 
laying  the  foundations  for  a  landed  aristocracy  in  the 
West  which  would  Jraternize  with  and  sustain  the  stock 
and  bond  holding  aristocracy  of  the  East. 

This  suspicion  did  not  have  the  effect  of  influencing 
them  to  abandon  their  attempts  to  settle  there,  and  so 
redeem  the  country  from  the  clutch  of  the  cattle  compa 
nies.  On  the  contrary,  it  aroused  them  to  a  feeling  that 
they  had  a  solemn  duty  to  perform  in  connection  with 
the  matter. 

If,  indeed,  it  were  true  that  the  conspirators  expected 
to  found  there  an  aristocracy  based  on  large  land  hold 
ings,  and  if  it  had  progressed  so  far  and  had  become  so 
powerful  that  it  could  compel  the  use  of  the  standing 
army  to  drive  from  their  homes  those  who  were  there  by 
full  permission  of  the  written  law,  then  it  was  their  duty 
to  do  and  to  suffer  whatever  must  be  in  defense  of  their 
right  to  settle  upon  this  land,  since  they  were  thus  made 
the  representatives  of  all  the  people,  and  to  them  was 
assigned  the  solemn  duty  of  preserving  the  rights  and  the 
liberties  of  all. 

Neither  could  it  matter  to  them  if  the  civil  courts  or 
the  heads  of  the  departments,  or  if  their  representatives 
in  Congress,  had  been  drawn  into  the  conspiracy  or  been 
packed  or  suborned  into  unholy  support  of  the  awful 


274  MR-  M'KINLEY  ENTHUSED. 

wrong  which  the  regular  army  was  being  used  to  perpe 
trate  upon  them. 

On  the  contrary,  this  only  made  it  the  more  impera 
tively  their  duty  to  contend  for  their  claims,  since  only 
by  contending  for  them  could  they  attract  public  atten 
tion  to  the  matter  and  compel  an  investigation  by  the 
people  into  the  facts  of  the  case. 

It  was  resolved,  therefore,  to  return  ;  and  if  evicted 
again  to  again  return,  and  to  continue  this,  and  increase 
their  numbers,  if  possible,  until  their  persistency  should 
provoke  the  desired  investigation. 

Even  Mr.  McKinley  was  aroused  and  active  in  his 
efforts  to  hold  the  colonists  together,  and  to  sustain  them 
in  their  determination  to  return  to  their  claims  in  the 
spring. 

Tying  him  with  a  rope  to  the  tail  end  of  a  wagon, 
and  compelling  him  to  march  there  between  two  files  of 
colored  soldiers,  had  aroused  the  lion  in  his  nature.  He 
was  not  less  dignified  than  before,  but  he  displayed  more 
activity. 

Mr.  McKinley  had  been  heard  to  say:  "I  '11  see  if  a 
citizen  who  has  been  honored  by  the  people  of  two  great 
States  can  be  deprived  of  his  right  to  settle  on  the  pub 
lic  domain  by  a  mob  of  nigger  soldiers,  commanded  by 
a  dude  in  a  lieutenant's  uniform. " 

For  two  weeks  those  who  had  gone  into  camp  at  the 
corn  fields  remained  there,  employed  in  shucking  corn  for 


THE   FIRST  TIFF.  3/5 

neighborhood  farmers,  and  then  the  whole  company 
moved  farther  up  in  the  State.  Here  the  men  began 
working  upon  the  railroad,  getting  wages  sufficient  to 
keep  their  families  and  lay  by  a  bit  for  the  coming  sea 
son's  need. 

The  great  difficulty  was  to  obtain  shelter — houses  in 
which  their  families  could  be  kept  comfortable — and  so 
some  were  obliged  to  put  up  cheap  shanties  and  live  in 
them. 

Nettie  had  been  fortunate  in  getting  a  position  as  a 
teacher  in  a  country  school  at  fair  pay,  and  consequently 
was  not  at  home,  except  occasionally  for  a  day. 

This  change  in  the  status  of  affairs  was  not  at  all  to 
Phil's  liking.  He  desired  to  be  married  at  once,  or  at 
least  that  Nettie  should  remain  at  home,  where  he  could 
see  her  every  day.  But  she  reminded  him  that  at  the 
time  she  had  promised  to  share  his  home  she  had  not 
promised  to  marry  him  until  he  had  one.  Seeing  that  he 
looked  a  little  bit  hurt,  she  put  her  arms  about  his  neck 
and  her  cheek  against  his,  and  so  comforted  him.  After 
this  she  pointed  out  how  much  better  it  would  be  for 
them — for  all — that  she  should  teach  during  the  winter, 
and  thus  add  something  to  the  general  fund  with  which 
the  family  and  he  should  return  to  Oklahoma  in  the 
spring  to  resume  the  work  of  making  a  home,  than  it 
would  be  to  marry,  and  be  under  the  necessity  of  spend 
ing  a  portion  of  what  Phil  still  had  in  building  a  cheap 


2/6  LOVE'S   RUFFLES   SMOOTHED. 

and  comfortless  cabin,  or  by  remaining  with  her  father 
and  mother  in  the  dug-out  that  circumstances  had  forced 
them  to  occupy. 

And  so  Nettie  went  to  her  school,  ten  miles  away, 
and  Phil  hitched  his  mules  to  a  road  scraper  and  scraped 
dirt  for  the  construction  company,  or  to  his  wagon  and 
hauled  it.  He  continued  to  board  with  Mr.  and  Mrs. 
Jones,  who  had  secured  the  occupancy  of  a  pretty  com 
fortable  sod-house,  from  which  a  settler  of  several  years 
before  had  moved  into  a  new  frame  house  recently  com 
pleted. 

But  as  regularly  as  Sunday  came,  the  Johnson  pony 
might  have  been  seen  heading  in  the  direction  of  the 
Bronson  settlement,  in  which  locality  Nettie  taught  the 
young  idea  how  to  shoot. 

And  as  no  one  ever  saw  him  when  he  returned,  and 
he  was  always  promptly  on  hand  with  his  mule  team  on 
Monday  morning,  it  is  fair  to  conclude  that  he  lingered 
at  Nettie's  boarding  place  until  rather  a  late  hour  each 
Sunday  night. 

Meantime  every  member  of  the  colony,  wherever  he 
stopped,  was  making  efforts  to  induce  others  to  join  the 
colonists  that  were  to  locate  homes  in  Oklahoma  in  the 
spring. 

Especially  was  the  leader  busy  in  this  direction,  and 
also  in  seeking  to  make  known  to  the  general  govern 
ment  and  to  the  public  at  large  the  true  condition  of 


AN    UP-HILL   TASK.  277 

things,  and  the  facts  as  they  existed  with  relation  to  the 
title  of  the  lands  on  which  the  colonists  had  laid  their 
claims. 

He  found,  though,  that  it  was  far  more  difficult  to  do 
this  than  he  had  thought. 

The  Captain  and  all  those  associated  with  him  were 
already  branded  by  the  reports  of  the  military  authori 
ties  at  whose  hands  they  had  suffered  arrest,  as  well  as 
by  those  interested  in  preventing  the  truth  from  becom 
ing  known,  as  men  seeking  to  deprive  a  peaceful  nation 
of  Indians  of  the  rights  solemnly  guaranteed  to  them  by 
the  government  of  the  United  States. 

As  a  result,  when  he  sought  the  use  of  the  columns 
of  the  influential  and  widely  circulated  newspapers  for 
the  purpose  of  relating  the  facts  he  was  refused,  or,  if 
granted  the  use  of  one,  his  statements  were  denied  in  an 
other  column  upon  authority  that  appeared  to  be  beyond 
impeachment. 

He  appealed  to  the  civil  courts  for  protection  from 
the  military  and  for  a  decision  as  to  his  right  and  also  the 
right  of  those  acting  with  him  to  settle  in  Oklahoma  un 
der  the  homestead  law,  and  was  refused. 

He  appealed  to  the  Secretary  of  the  Interior,  and  he 
could  get  no  satisfaction. 

He  appealed  to  a  United  States  Senator  from  Kan 
sas,  but  got  no  reply. 

Discouraged  with  his  efforts  to  thus  bring  the  matter 


378  THE   ONLY   REMAINING   WAY. 

before  the  public,  and  convinced  that  men  high  up  in 
authority  were  interested  in  overthrowing  the  law,  and 
that  it  was  through  the  influence  which  they  wielded  in 
government  circles  that  the  army  was  being  used  to  over 
awe  himself  and  his  companions,  and  render  non-effect 
ive  the  law  whereby  the  people  had  sought  to  make  the 
public  lands  secure  to  those  who  desired  to  make  homes 
upon  them,  there  appeared  to  him  but  one  way  remain 
ing  by  which  they  could  protect  their  rights  to  the  claims 
which  they  had  made  and  call  public  attention  to  the 
situation  to  an  extent  that  would  compel  the  relinquish- 
ment,  by  the  cattle  syndicates,  of  the  grip  that  they  had 
upon  the  country,  and  so  save  this  beautiful  Territory  to 
the  people. 

This  one  remaining  way  was  to  raise  a  still  larger 
colony,  and  by  persistently  returning  as  often  as  driven 
out,  finally  compel  the  public  to  take  such  interest  in  the 
question  as  would  eventually  bring  the  entire  matter  be 
fore  Congress  for  settlement,  through  the  introduction  of 
a  bill  providing  for  the  organization  of  that  district  under 
territorial  law. 

Accordingly,  he  put  forth  renewed  efforts  to  induce 
others  to  join  the  colony. 

He  rode,  wrote  and  talked  constantly. 

He  got  one  man  interested  in  a  neighborhood  and  in 
duced  him  to  work  upon  his  neighbors  to  enlist  them. 

He  secured  the  meeting  of  a  half  dozen  neighbors  in 


AN   ACTIVE   EVANGELIST. 

the  house  of  one  of  their  number  for  the  purpose  of  hav 
ing  a  talk  about  Oklahoma,  and  in  another  place  he  got 
the  entire  neighborhood  interested  and  rode  fifty  miles 
on  horseback  to  tell  them  about  Oklahoma. 

Possessed  of  considerable  property  when  the  idea  of 
settling  in  the  beautiful  country  first  took  possession  of 
him,  he  spent  it  freely  in  scattering  a  knowledge  of  its 
beauty  and  fertility  among  the  people  as  far  and  as  fast 
as  it  was  possible  for  him  to  go  personally  or  transmit 
information. 

He  reckoned  as  of  no  value  time,  money  and  his  own 
comfort,  so  he  made  known  the  facts  about  Oklahoma, 
and  opened  the  eyes  of  the  people  to  efforts  being  made 
to  prevent  its  settlement  by  any  except  the  cattle  syn 
dicates  already  there — the  kings  already  in  possession, 
and  using  the  army  to  enable  them  to  retain  possession, 
of  the  last  and  most  beautiful  of  all  the  free  lands  of  the 
Grand  Republic. 

With  his  own  efforts  and  those  of  Phil  Johnson,  Mr. 
McKinley  and  others — all,  in  fact,  that  had  been  of  the 
colony  before — the  approach  of  spring  saw  a  company 
many  times  larger  than  the  old  one  assembling  upon  the 
border  of  Kansas,  preparatory  to  entrance  into  Okla 
homa. 

From  many  States  and  from  long  distances  the  addi 
tions  had  come. 

Those  who  had  returned  the  fall  before  to  their  old 


28O  READY   TO   TAKE   THE  RISK. 

homes  had  told  the  tale  of  the  advantages  which  nature 
had  showered  upon  this  beautiful  spot  to  make  of  it  the 
fairest  of  lands  and  the  most  desirable  of  homes  for  all 
who  wanted  to  make  homes  upon  a  virgin  soil. 

They  had  told,  too,  all  the  facts  regarding  the  efforts 
being  made  to  shut  the  people  out  of  the/;  heritage,  and 
in  this  way  they  had  aroused  the  spirit  of  hatred  ©f  op 
pression,  the  love  of  liberty,  the  pride  in  country  and  the 
determination  that  here,  at  least,  in  America,  shall  there 
be  fair  play. 

By  the  appointed  time  there  had  started  westward  a 
long  line  of  canvas-covered  wagons,  that  centered  upon 
the  border  of  the  Indian  Territory,  and  whose  owners 
announced  themselves  ready  to  take  the  risk  of  eviction, 
imprisonment — yes,  even  death — in  support  of  the  in 
alienable  right  of  the  children  of  the  Republic  to  homes 
upon  the  public  lands. 

For  some  weeks  before  the  day  set  for  starting  they 
began  to  arrive. 

First  came  a  single  wagon,  containing  the  members 
of  one  small  family — a  man  and  his  wife.  Then  arrived 
two  others  and  went  into  camp  with  the  first.  Another 
and  another  followed,  and  then  came  a  score  of  wagons, 
when  the  camp  looked  like  a  village  of  tents  and  prairie 
schooners. 

Among  the  later  comers  were  the  colonists  who  had 
been  at  work  for  the  construction  company  during  the 


NETTIE'S  BANK  ACCOUNT.  281 

winter.  Their  apparent  dilatoriness  was  understood  by 
the  others. 

Understanding  the  necessity  which  might  arise,  they 
were  anxious  to  lay  in  as  large  a  supply  of  provisions, 
and  that  which  could  buy  provisions,  as  possible,  and  so 
remained  close  at  work  until  within  four  days  of  the  time 
set  for  leaving  the  Kansas  border,  en  route  for  their  old 
claims  and  homes  in  Oklahoma,  and  then  drove  direct 
and  without  an  hour's  unnecessary  delay  to  the  place  of 
rendezvous. 

With  this  party  came  the  McKinleys  and  Phil  John 
son  and  the  people  he  boarded  with. 

Nettie  had  finished  her  school  and  received  her  pay. 
At  the  request  of  her  mother  and  brothers,  she  had  put 
the  greater  portion  of  it  in  a  bank,  where  it  might  prove 
helpful  later  on. 

She  would  have  passed  it  all  over  to  swell  the  family 
fund,  but  they  were  resolved  that  she  should  not,  seeing 
that  it  would  not  be  long  before  she  would  have  need  of 
it  in  a  home  of  her  own. 

Nettie  and  Phil  intended  to  be  married  in  the  fall, 
unless  they  were  again  driven  out  of  Oklahoma;  and  even 
if  they  were  again  deported,  it  was  not  impossible  that 
they  would  still  be  married.  They  did  not  know  for 
sure;  the  happy  event  must  depend  somewhat  upon  cir 
cumstances. 

For  the  present  they  were  happy,  being  where  they 


282  MR.  M'KINLEY'S  FOLLOWERS. 

could  be  together  every  day,  and  with  the  knowledge 
that  they  were  to  be  near  each  other  all  summer  in  camp 
and  in  their  Oklahoma  homes. 

And  so  they  had  gone  to  the  place  appointed  for  the 
meeting  of  the  colony,  preparatory  to  the  start  for  the 
land  of  their  dreams,  and  along  with  them  had  gone  a 
dozen  other  families  from  among  the  new  friends  whom 
they  had  made  during  the  months  they  had  passed  in  the 
Sunflower  State. 

Some  of  these  new  recruits  were  men  who  had  been 
employed  on  the  same  railroad  with  Phil  and  the  other 
colonists.  Some  were  families  who  had  come  West  the 
fall  before,  and  had  not  yet  bought  homes,  or  who,  hav 
ing  small  homes,  had  sold  them  to  join  the  expedition  to 
Oklahoma. 

These  last  Mr.  McKinley  claimed  as  his  especial  fol 
lowers,  he  having  been  the  principal  factor  in  inducing 
them  to  join  the  colony. 

Owing  to  the  willingness  of  his  family,  both  sons  and 
daughters,  to  support  him  in  his  efforts  to  maintain  the 
dignity  which  he  felt  belonged  to  him,  as  one  who  had 
been  honored  with  a  commission  to  run  a  ferry  boat,  he 
had  not  been  compelled  to  work  on  the  railroad,  and  had 
put  in  most  of  the  time  talking  up  Oklahoma  and  the  in 
terests  of  the  colony. 

While  thus  engaged,  he  gradually  came  to  consider 
himself  more  and  more  in  the  light  of  the  real  leader  of 


DECIDES   ON   THE   LEGISLATURE.  283 

the  company  and  organizer  of  the  enterprise,  and  to  as 
sume  a  yet  more  dignified  manner. 

About  this  time  the  idea  possessed  him  that  it  would 
be  better  and  more  in  accord  with  the  natural  fitness  of 
things  for  him  to  become  a  member  of  the  Territorial 
Legislature  which  was  to  be,  when  Oklahoma  was  set 
tled,  than  to  apply  for  a  license  to  establish  a  ferry 
across  the  Canadian  River,  as  he  had  for  several  months 
intended. 

In  the  former  event  he  would  be  in  a  better  position 
to  secure  the  charter  for  the  ferry  in  the  name  of  one  of 
his  sons,  and  so  cause  two  generations  of  McKinleys  to 
be  honored,  while  in  case  he  applied  for  it  for  himself, 
the  honors  done  to  the  family  would  die  out  with  his 
passing. 

Not  that  the  old  gentleman  had  any  thoughts  of  his 
dying,  except  as  something  too  far  away  to  be  regarded 
as  a  matter  of  any  present  importance  beyond  the  prep 
aration  to  meet  the  Day  of  Judgment  by  occasionally, 
like  the  rest  of  us,  repenting  of  sin  long  enough  to  be 
tolerably  certain  that  we  have  repented  of  it,  in  order 
that  we  may  keep  on  sinning  in  a  comfortable  state  of 
mind. 

On  the  contrary,  Mr.  McKinley  was  never  one-half 
so  active  or  full  of  projects  in  his  life,  and  never  before 
got  so  much  or  so  high  a  pleasure  out  of  existence  as  he 
was  enjoying. 


284  THE   DIGNITY  OF   LABOR. 

Never  before  this  had  he  felt  himself  to  be  an  active 
leader  of  men  or  molder  of  public  opinion.  Heretofore 
he  had  waited  until  his  opinion  had  been  asked  for,  and 
then  answered  in  that  dignified  tone  of  exaltation  which 
belongs  by  right  to  the  judge. 

But  now  he  forced  his  opinions  upon  people. 

He  spoke  as  one  having  authority  to  compel  men  to 
hear  the  truth  about  Oklahoma  and  the  injustice  done  to 
the  colonists  by  the  army,  with  the  sanction  of  the  gov 
ernment  at  Washington — or,  at  least,  without  being  rep 
rimanded  or  its  action  overruled. 

From  talking  the  beauties  of  Oklahoma  and  the  com 
petence  to  be  speedily  won  there  by  labor  on  the  virgin 
soil,  he  finally  got  to  talking  of  the  honorableness  and 
dignity  of  labor  in  the  abstract,  even  going  so  far  as  to 
shovel  sand  on  the  railroad  one  whole  day  to  prove  that 
labor  was  compatible  with  dignity  of  person. 


CHAPTER  XIX. 

BACK  TO.  OKLAHOMA    AGAIN — LIFE    AT    THE   SETTLEMENT 
— A   COWBOY   IMPARTS   STARTLING    NEWS. 

But  now,  just  as  the  colony,  thus  largely  augmented, 
Tas  on  the  point  of  starting,  came  tidings  of  the  arrest, 
by  a  United  States  Marshal,  of  their  leader,  as  he  was 
on  his  way  to  join  them  from  some  point  farther  east, 
where  he  had  been  attending  to  some  business  for  the 
colony. 

This  news  threw  a  damper  over  the  spirits  of  all  the 
colonists,  and  caused  a  few  of  the  new  members  to  waver 
in  their  determination  to  enter  Oklahoma,  and  two  fami 
lies  actually  turned  about  and  sought  for  homes  in  other 
and  undisputed  territory. 

The  majority,  however,  remained  firm.  They  even 
felt  that  the  arrest  might  bring  the  whole  matter  before 
the  courts,  and  result  in  great  good  by  settling  at  once 

(285) 


286  IN   TROUBLE   BUT   NOT  CAST  DOWN. 

and  forever  the  question  of  their  right  to  pre-empt  land 
in  Oklahoma,  and  in  the  whole  country  under  dispute, 
which  was  now  understood  to  extend  to  what  is  known 
as  the  Cherokee  Strip,  containing  six  million  acres,  and 
also  to  the  Public  Land  Strip,  a  body  of  land  lying  north 
of  Texas  and  west  of  the  Indian  Territory,  and  contain 
ing,  as  roughly  estimated,  something  over  three  million 
acres. 

With  hope  to  buoy  them  up,  the  old  colonists — they 
who  had  been  among  those  evicted  from  their  claims  on 
two  previous  occasions — were  in  no  way  cast  down  by 
the  fact  of  the  arrest. 

They  loved  their  leader  as  a  brother,  and  regretted 
exceedingly  the  suffering,  both  of  body  and  mind,  which 
he  might  be  compelled  to  undergo,  but  still  they  felt  that 
good  was  likely  to  come  out  of  it,  and  so  they  could  not 
regret  the  marshal's  action,  feeling  that  they  should  be 
glad  instead. 

Upon  the  question  of  whether  they  should  await  the 
action  of  the  court,  and  the  release  of  their  imprisoned 
leader,  or  move  at  once  under  the  leadership  of  some 
other  member,  there  was  some  difference  of  opinion  at 
first. 

A  number  of  the  more  timid  ones  advised  staying, 
while  others  asked  : 

'  *  How  can  we  wait  ? 

"  What  shall  we  do  in  the  meantime,  if  we  decide  to 


CONFIDENT  OF  THEIR   RIGHT.  287 

wait  and  have  all  the  points  involved  settled  before  we 
move  ?" 

"  It  may  be  six  months  or  a  year,"  they  said,  "before 
a  decision  can  be  obtained  in  the  courts.  Such  delays 
have  often  been,  and  may  be  again,  and  if  we  consent 
to  wait  they  may  keep  us  waiting  indefinitely. 

'  *  Should  we  wait,  we  must  either  consume  the  stock 
of  provisions  that  we  have  on  hand,  and  which  ought  to 
sustain  us  until  a  crop  is  raised  on  our  claims,  or  we 
must  separate  and  search  for  work,  in  which  case  we  can 
not  get  together  again  without  trouble,  and  probably  will 
never  all  get  together  again." 

And,  besides,  they  knew  that  the  time  was  already 
at  hand  when  they  should  be  planting,  for  this  season's 
crop,  the  ground  broken  the  season  before,  and  also  be 
preparing  new  ground  for  later  seeding. 

Evidently,  if  they  separated  now,  they  could  not 
enter  Oklahoma  before  fall,  and  this  delay  they  were  not 
willing  to  submit  to. 

They  felt  that  their  right  to  go  was  perfect — abso 
lutely  unclouded  by  the  shadow  of  a  doubt  which  had  its 
origin  either  in  the  written  law  or  in  the  spirit  of  the 
Constitution. 

Firmly  imbued  with  this  feeling,  they  determined  to 
start  at  once,  and  leave  their  leader  to  follow  when  he 
should  have  vindicated  himself  and  them  in  the  courts, 
and  before  the  country. 


288  TRIED  AND   ACQUITTED. 

They  knew  that  if  he  were  where  he  could  give  them 
advice  he  would  say:  "Go."  They  believed  that  in  go 
ing,  and  thus  proving  their  faith  in  their  right  to  go  and 
making  more  difficult  of  execution  the  purpose  of  their 
enemies  to  keep  the  matter  from  reaching  the  public  ear, 
they  would  be  doing  both  their  leader  and  themselves  a 
service  which,  perhaps,  could  not  be  done  so  effectively 
in  any  other  manner. 

Therefore,  they  called  a  meeting  in  the  camp,  and 
formally  voted  to  start  without  further  delay;  and  some 
body  had  just  made  a  motion  that  Phil  Johnson  act  as 
president  and  leader  for  the  journey  back  to  the  settle 
ment  on  the  Canadian  River,  when,  to  the  surprise  and 
joy  of  everybody,  their  old  leader  rode  into  camp,  and 
dismounted  in  their  midst. 

Then  went  up  a  cheer  which  caused  all  the  women 
and  children  in  the  camp  to  clamber  down  from  their 
wagons  or  rush  out  of  their  tents,  and  come  running  to 
see  what  it  all  meant. 

The  chairman  of  the  meeting  jumped  down  from  the 
wagon  in  which,  as  presiding  officer,  he  was  stationed, 
and  from  which,  with  a  kingbolt  for  a  gavel  and  a  dry 
goods  box  for  a  desk,  he  had  been  preserving  order,  and 
rushed  to  welcome  the  returned  chieftain,  about  whom 
all  were  gathering,  shaking  hands  and  asking  questions 
as  to  how  he  managed  to  get  off,. and  whether  he  had  had 
his  trial  vet. 


REGARDED  AS  SETTLED.  289 

And  when  he  told  them  that  he  had  been  tried  before 
the  United  States  District  Court  at  Topeka,  the  capital 
of  the  State  of  Kansas,  and  declared  "not  guilty  of  any 
criminal  offense,"  they  threw  up  their  hats  and  cheered 
and  cheered  again,  shouting  themselves  hoarse  in  their 
efforts  to  express  the  intensity  of  their  joy. 

For  now  they  could  go  forward  with  confidence — the 
perfect  assurance  that  they  would  not  be  disturbed  or 
interfered  with  by  the  military  authorities.  For  is  not 
the  civil  above  the  military  in  this  Republic  of  ours  ? 
And  had  not  this  leader,  as  their  representative,  just 
been  tried  by  the  civil  authorities  upon  a  charge  of  ille 
gally  entering  and  taking  possession  of  land  in  Okla 
homa,  and  had  he  not  been  declared  innocent  of  any 
criminal  offense  in  so  doing  ? 

Certainly  he  had,  and  that  settled  it — must  settle  it; 
for  such  was  the  law  of  the  land,  and  such  the  natural 
justice  of  the  case. 

Such  was  the  course  of  reasoning  followed  by  the 
colonists,  and  that  night  they  held  a  grand  jubilee  in  the 
camp,  at  which  speeches  were  made  and  songs  were 
sung,  and  the  glories  of  the  Republic,  and  of  the  civil 
law,  which  meted  out  even-handed  justice  to  rich  and 
poor  alike,  were  proclaimed  in  impassioned  language. 
Pride  of  country  and  love  for  the  old  flag  were  rekindled 
and  made  to  glow  with  a  brighter  flame. 

Then  all  retired  to  rest.     Each  member  awoke  fresh 


290  TRAIN    MASTER   PHIL  JOHNSON. 

and  joyous  in  the  morning,  to  begin  the  journey  toward 
the  Promised  Land. 

They  broke  camp  in  the  cool  of  the  morning  with 
song  and  quip  and  calls  back  and  forth,  and  with  high 
hopes  and  bright  faces. 

Phil  had  been  made  train  master,  and  upon  him  had 
devolved  the  duty  of  seeing  that  everybody  connected 
with  the  colony  was  made  as  comfortable  as  could  be, 
and  that  the  route  followed  was  such  as  to  lead  them 
through  a  portion  of  the  country  where  water  and  grass 
were  abundant. 

He  was  also  to  fix  upon  the  camping  ground  at  night, 
and  to  give  the  word  of  command  for  breaking  camp  and 
resuming  the  journey  each  morning. 

One  of  the  McKinley  boys  agreed  to  drive  Phil's 
wagon  and  mules,  thus  leaving  him  free  to  attend  to  the 
duties  of  his  position,  of  which  he  was  proud. 

Nettie  was  proud  of  him. 

After  his  selection  for  the  place  at  the  meeting  held 
the  night  before  starting,  Nettie  slipped  away  from  the 
circle  about  the  camp  fire,  and  when  she  returned  she 
brought  with  her  a  red  sash  which  she  had  made  once  on 
a  time  for  use  at  one  of  her  school  exhibitions. 

Coming  up  slyly  to  Phil,  she  threw  the  sash  over  his 
shoulder,  and,  blushing  and  laughing,  tied  it  under  his 
arms,  telling  him  it  was  his  insignia  of  office,  and  that  he 
must  wear  it  worthily  as  became  a  brave  knight. 


SOME   BIG   CATTLE   RANCHES.  39 1 

She  then  darted  away  before  Phil,  whose  happiness 
was  showing  itself  in  every  lineament  of  his  face  despite 
his  efforts  to  look  as  though  that  was  only  an  every-day 
occurrence,  could  find  words  in  which  to  fitly  express  his 
thanks. 

Now,  in  truth,  Nettie  had  some  reasons  to  be  proud 
of  her  lover,  who,  as  he  cantered  back  and  forth,  getting 
the  wagons  into  line  that  first  morning,  and  making  sure 
that  nothing  was  forgotten  or  left  undone,  sat  his  pony 
like  a  very  centaur,  and  was  a  lover  in  whom  any  girl 
might  well  feel  a  pride. 

Under  Phil's  direction,  the  long  train  of  more  than 
eighty  canvas-covered  wagons  drew  out  upon  the  prairie 
and  wound  its  way  along. 

They  traveled  almost  directly  south  the  first  day,  fol 
lowing  the  line  of  the  proposed  extension  of  the  Atchi- 
son,  Topeka  and  Santa  Fe  Railroad,  and  camped  that 
night  on  the  banks  of  the  Osage  Creek,  a  branch  of  the 
Big  Salt,  itself  a  branch  of  Arkansas  River. 

Traveling  south  again,  on  the  second  day  at  noon 
they  crossed  the  Big  Salt  by  fording,  and,  still  following 
the  line  of  the  proposed  railroad,  late  at  night  of  the 
third  day  out,  went  into  camp  at  Buffalo  Springs,  on  or 
near  the  line  between  the  Cherokee  Strip  and  Oklahoma, 
having  for  the  last  two  and  one-half  days  traveled  con 
tinuously  across  lands  held,  and  generally  fenced  with 
barbed  wire,  by  these  four  cattle  companies :  William- 


292  BY  BEAUTIFUL  STREAMS. 

son,  Blair  &  Co.,  Snow  &  Rannalls,  Cobb  &  Hutton  and 
Hewins  &  Titus. 

Resuming  their  journey  on  the  morning  of  the  fourth 
day,  they  passed  into  Oklahoma  through  lands  held  by 
Hewins  &  Titus  and  by  Williams  Brothers,  crossed  the 
Cimmaron  River  and,  still  upon  lands  held  by  the  Will 
iams  Brothers,  turned  to  the  southeast  along  the  old 
Chisholm  cattle  trail,  and,  a  half  day's  journey  farther 
on,  entered  upon  the  still  larger  tract  of  land  held  by  the 
Wyeth  Cattle  Company. 

Thus  they  continued  their  journey,  making  twenty  to 
twenty-five  miles  each  day,  camping  at  night  on  the 
banks  of  some  beautiful  stream,  sleeping  the  sweet  sleep 
which  comes  of  abundant  exercise  in  an  atmosphere  in 
which  there  is  no  malaria,  and  as  a  result  of  high  hopes 
and  consciences  unburdened  with  any  sense  of  wrong 
doing. 

Traveling  by  day  and  resting  by  night,  they  came,  in 
time,  in  sight  of  the  river  flowing  by  the  spot  that  was 
to  be  their  future  home — the  spot  already  memorable  to 
a  portion  of  their  members,  and  one  doubly  dear  to  them 
because  of  those  memories. 

And  these  old  memories  started  a  cheer  at  sight  of 
the  spot — a  cheer  which  the  newer  colonists  were  quick 
to  take  up  when  they  understood  its  meaning — and  once 
again  the  echoes  came  back  from  the  timber  growing 
upon  the  river's  banks,  and  once  again  all  felt  that  joy 


THRICE  BUILT  HOMES.  293 

which  abides  only  within  the  home.  It  was  natural  that 
some  one  should  start  the  song,  and  again  the  welkin 
rang  with  "Home,  Sweet  Home." 


The  same  "assistant"  surveyor  who  had  run  out  the 
previously  taken  claims  was  called  upon  to  do  more  of 
the  same  kind  of  work,  and  other  claims  were  laid  and 
their  boundaries  marked  off. 

Again  new  cabins  began  to  rise,  not  only  upon  those 
claims  where  twice  before  had  cabins  been  built,  but  new 
ones  on  new  claims. 

The  Vandals  had  again  done  their  work.  Not  one 
house  was  found  standing. 

There  were  soon  to  be  seen  cabins  of  logs,  of  sods 
cut  in  the  shape  of  bricks  and  about  two  feet  long  and 
laid  up  as  bricks  are  laid,  and  others  made  by  digging 
into  the  side  of  some  little  rise  in  the  ground — "dug 
outs"  as  they  are  called. 

In  front  or  at  the  side  of  each  cabin  might  be  seen  a 


$94  LOOKING   TO  THE   HARVEST. 

severed  wagon,  or  if  not  the  wagon  then  the  cover  only, 
&till  stretched  over  its  bows  of  ash  or  hickory,  and  serv 
ing  now  as  a  depository  for  implements  of  one  kind  and 
another  for  which  there  was  no  room  in  the  cabin.  Oc 
casionally  the  children  used  them  as  play  houses. 

New  patches  and  ribbons  of  black  earth  began  again 
|j>  appear  in  the  midst  of  the  wide  stretches  of  green, 
the  old  ones  having  already  been  worked  over  and  plant 
ed,  making  the  third  time  that  these  older  colonists  had 
sowed  and  cultivated  without  being  permitted  to  reap  a 
harvest. 

And  so  the  time  passed. 

The  men  worked  at  turning  the  sod  and  preparing  for 
a  future  harvest  of  grain,  taking  only  an  occasional  day 
off  for  hunting,  that  there  might  never  be  a  scarcity  of 
meat  in  the  larder. 

The  women  looked  to  household  affairs  and  to  the 
bright  bits  of  gardens  about  their  dooryards. 

The  children  fished  in  the  river,  hunted  for  flowers  in 
the  prairie  grass  along  the  borders  of  the  wood,  and 
while  so  occupied  grew  strong  and  healthy  and  as  black 
as  Indians  from  the  sun  and  tan. 

By-and-by  the  corn,  which  for  a  time  had  turned  to 
green  again  the  patches  and  ribbons  of  black,  changed 
them  to  brown  and  gold  instead.  The  first  harvest  of 
the  colonists  is  nearly  ready  for  the  gathering. 

It  is  not  a  large  one,  but  it  is  the  first  fruits  which 


AGAIN  A  SCHOOLMA'AM.  295 

have  ripened  beneath  their  care,  and  they  are  proud  of 
it — happy  because  of  it,  and  because  of  the  promise  that 
it  contains  of  other  and  broader  harvests  yet  to  spring 
from  the  rich  soil  of  this  most  beautiful  valley  in  this 
fairest  of  lands,  when  they  shall  have  had  time  to  turn 
some  wider  furrows  across  the  prairie's  rich  soil. 

The  McKinleys,  like  all  the  rest,  have  been  busy,  and 
their  claim  has  some  narrow  bands  of  gold  and  brown, 
and  some  wider  ones  of  black  across  it,  where  the  young 
men  have  been  plowing  and  planting. 

Mr.  McKinley's  interest  in  life,  as  in  the  prosperity  of 
the  colony,  has  increased  rather  than  diminished  with 
the  passing  weeks,  and  he  has  been  as  busy  as  the  very 
busiest — though  just  what  he  has  done  is  not  so  clear, 
except  that  he  has  helped  to  imbue  the  colonists  anew 
with  faith  in  the  dignity  of  labor  and  with  lofty  aspira 
tions  for  the  future  of  Oklahoma,  and  has  selected,  at 
least  in  his  own  mind,  the  exact  site  for  the  new  Terri 
torial  State  House,  which  the  first  Legislature,  of  which 
he  will  be  a  member,  will  order  erected. 

Immediately  after  getting  into  their  own  cabins,  the 
colonists  had  erected  a  school  house  on  the  site  of  the 
city  which  is  to  be,  and  in  this  Nettie  has  been  following 
her  vocation  as  teacher  to  the  children. 

They  made  a  pretty  large  school,  and  a  pretty  diffi 
cult  one  to  manage  well,  but  Nettie  has  had  experience 
with  such,  and  manages  them  nicely. 


296  PHIL  A  STUDENT. 

The  younger  ones  are  kept  in  only  just  long  enough 
to  be  heard  say  their  ABC  lesson  or  read  an  a-b  ab  les 
son  and  then  sent  out  to  play,  while  their  teacher  gives 
her  attention  to  the  larger  scholars,  to  whom  she  is  a 
companion  as  well  as  teacher. 

On  Sunday  afternoons,  and  usually  on  one  or  two 
evenings  during  the  week,  she  gives  private  lessons  to  a 
young  man  by  the  name  of  Johnson,  familiarly  called 
Phil,  in  matters  not  set  forth  in  the  school  books. 

Phil  has  his  new  house  under  way  again  now,  and  is 
building  the  same  sweet  hopes  in  with  the  other  material 
that  he  put  into  the  one  which  he  built  a  year  ago,  and 
which  was  destroyed  by  order  of  the  cattle  kings  during 
his  enforced  absence. 

Nettie  comes  over  with  him  on  Sunday  afternoons, 
and  together  they  lay  their  plans  for  the  future,  which  is 
to  begin  so  soon  now — just  so  soon,  in  fact,  as  the  house 
is  finished,  and  that  will  be  but  a  little  while,  only  a  few 
weeks. 

A  printing  press  has  been  purchased  and  brought  out 
by  the  president  of  the  colony,  and  a  little  paper  devoted 
to  the  interests  of  the  members  and  to  the  settlement  of 
the  country  about  them  has  been  started.  Weekly  edi 
tions  of  it  are  struck  off  and  sent  here  and  there  and 
everywhere,  to  friends  of  the  colonists  and  to  any  who 
can  be  induced  to  take  an  interest  in  this  new  country 
and  the  development  of  its  resources. 


A  FRIENDLY   TIP.  2Q? 

The  colony,  quite  plainly,  is  already  assuming  the 
airs  of  an  old  settlement. 

It  has  faith  in  itself  and  in  its  future,  and  it  has  room 
in  which  to  grow. 

One  Saturday  afternoon,  as  the  weekly  paper,  the 
Oklahoma  Bee,  was  being  distributed  to  a  group  of  col 
onists  who  had  come  for  it,  a  stranger  appeared,  dressed 
in  the  garb  of  a  cowboy. 

He  was  mounted  on  a  cow  pony,  as  the  little  Mexi 
can  horses  used  so  largely  by  the  cattle  men  are  called. 
He  wore  the  usual  complement  or  revolvers  and  carried 
the  customary  Winchester  rifle  lying  across  his  lap  be 
hind  the  pommel  of  his  saddle. 

Halting  in  front  of  the  little  group  gathered  about  the 
board  shanty  in  which  the  newspaper  was  printed,  he 
leaned  forward  in  his  saddle  and  looked  the  crowd  over 
leisurely  without  speaking. 

Naturally  all  eyes  were  turned  toward  him,  and  one 
or  two  of  the  younger  men  pitched  some  half  joking 
remark  in  his  direction,  to  which  he  made  no  response, 
but  continued  coolly  running  his  eye  from  one  to  another 
with  a  look  of  quizzical  curiosity. 

At  last  he  said  : 

"I  was  wondering,  as  I  rode  along,  what  kind  of  stuff 
you  fellows  are  made  of.  You  don't  look,  now,  like  a  set 
that  would  show  the  white  feather  without  first  rinding 
out  -vhat  the  other  fellows  had  for  exchange." 


INFORMATION   OF   VALUE. 

For  a  moment  no  one  answered.  Then  one  asked, 
Angrily:  "  What  do  you  mean  ?" 

"Oh,  not  much,"  replied  the  other,  with  an  air  of 
carelessness. 

Then  the  mysterious  visitor  glanced  away  across  the 
country,  and  after  a  moment  added  : 

1 '  Got  some  pretty  good    claims   here,  I  should  say 
Pretty  good  claims.     Nice  town  site,   school  house  and 
printing  office — every  thing   getting   fixed  up  just  about 
right.     I  should  think  you  fellows  would  kind  of  hate  to 
pull  out  of  here.     I  should,   for  a  fact." 

"  Say,  pardner,  if  you  've  got  any  information  that 's 
of  value  to  this  crowd,  this  is  just  as  good  an  opportu 
nity  to  dispose  of  it  as  you  will  ever  get.  Suppose  you 
speak  right  out  now,  and  have  it  over  with  at  once. " 

It  was  Phil  Johnson  who  spoke,  and  as  he  did  so  he 
left  the  place  where  he  was  standing  in  the  door  of  the 
printing  office,  and  came  close  up  to  the  horseman,  who 
eyed  him  closely,  and  then  said  : 

"  Your  observation  is  correct,  pard.  You  Ve  hit  the 
bull's-eye  dead  center,  first  pop. 

"  Now,  what  I  've  got  to  say  I  can  say  mighty  quick. 
So  here  goes. 

"If  you  fellows  mean  to  hang  on  to  your  claims, 
you  Ve  got  to  fight  for  'em. 

"Do  I  make  myself  understood?" 

"  No  I     Speak  out  plainly  about  the  matter." 


THE    TALE   IS  TOLD.  299 

"What  do  you  mean,  anyhow?" 

"Who  's  going  to  jump  our  claims  ?" 

Everybody  spoke  at  once,  and  all  crowded  forward 
and  formed  a  circle  about  Phil  Johnson  and  the  strange 
horseman. 

The  stranger  had  the  appearance  of  enjoying  the 
sensation  which  he  was  creating. 

He  again  surveyed  the  crowd  with  a  look  of  careless 
indifference  which  one  could  not  help  seeing  was  par 
tially,  if  not  wholly,  assumed. 

The  man  was  doubtless  a  natural  lover  of  the  trag 
ical,  and  almost  unconsciously  sought  to  gratify  his  love 
of  it  by  the  manner  in  which  he  imparted  the  informa 
tion  he  had  to  give. 

"Well,"  he  said,  still  with  an  air  of  nonchalance, 
"you  fellows  can  see  who  I  am — tell  that  by  the  set  of 
my  clothes. 

"  I  'm  a  cow  puncher,  and  I  herd  for  one  of  the  com 
panies  that  own  cattle  and  a  range  not  very  far  from  this 
locality.  That  is,  they  own  the  cattle  and  claim  to  own 
the  range — leased  it,  you  know,  from  some  other  fellow, 
who  leased  it  from  the  Indians. 

' '  Well,  I  accidentally  overheard  a  little  conversation 
between  a  couple  of  partners — cattle  kings,  they  are 
called — the  other  night,  and  they  were  remarking  that 
your  corn  fields  would  make  right  good  picking  for  their 
steers  this  winter,  after  the  soldiers  had  run  you  fellows 


300  NOT   MY   CHUCK  WAGON. 

out  of  the  country  again.  Then  they  chuckled,  and  ap 
peared  to  like  the  arrangement." 

This  choice  bit  of  cattle  king  pleasantry  excited  gen 
eral  indignation,  and  one  of  the  colonists  replied  : 

"  But  they  can  't  run  us  out.  We  have  a  decision  of 
the  court  in  our  favor." 

' '  Oh,  well !  Just  as  you  fellows  think  ;  this  aint  my 
chuck  wagon,  of  course,"  returned  the  stranger.  "But 
maybe  you  don't  know  who  's  back  of  this  thing  as  well 
as  some  other  folks.  Maybe  the  military  have  n't  been 
informed  of  the  decision  of  the  court,  and  maybe  it 
would  make  no  difference  if  they  had.  Maybe  those  who 
are  back  of  this  thing  don't  care  what  the  law  says,  any 
way. 

' 'But  if  you  know  more  about  it  than  I  do,  why, 
then  I  can't  see  that  you  need  any  more  information 
from  me." 

He  straightened  himself  in  his  saddle  and  lifted  the 
bridle  from  the  neck  of  his  pony,  as  if  about  to  ride  off, 
but  they  called  to  him  to  "  hold  on,"  and  urged  that  he 
tell  them  all  he  knew  about  the  matter,  and  whether  he 
was  certain  that  a  descent  upon  them  by  the  troops  from 
any  of  the  forts  in  the  Territory  was  positively  decided 
upon. 

They  could  not  believe  such  a  thing  possible,  and  yet 
they  were  quick  to  take  alarm,  being  made  suspicious  by 
previous  experiences. 


ORDERS  FROM  WASHINGTON.  3OI 

But  the  good-hearted  cowboy,  although  anxious  to 
warn  them,  had  told  about  all  he  knew. 

He  had  overheard  a  conversation  from  which  he  had 
gathered  that  a  movement  was  on  foot  to  again  drive  the 
colonists  out  of  the  country,  but  when  the  attempt  to  do 
so  was  to  be  made  he  had  not  learned. 

He  was  of  the  opinion  that  the  date  was  near  at  hand 
— it  might  be  any  day,  or  it  might  not  be  for  a  month. 
He  could  not  tell. 

But  he  was  confident  of  two  facts — that  the  troops 
were  to  be  again  ordered  to  remove  the  settlers  out  of 
the  Territory,  and  that  the  orders  came  straight  from 
Washington. 

While  an  excited  talk,  which  this  announcement 
created,  was  taking  place  among  the  colonists.  Phil  put 
his  hand  upon  the  neck  of  the  stranger's  pony,  and  then 
walked  a  few  paces  by  his  side. 

"Pard,"  he  said,  "you  have  done  us  a  good  turn,  I 
reckon,  though  I  can't  say  as  it  's  pleasant  news  you  Ve 
brought.  Come,  spend  the  night  with  me,  and  rest  both 
yourself  and  pony." 

"Can't  do  it.  Would  if  I  could,  but  it  is  better  not. 
I  told  the  boss  when  I  left  camp  that  I  was  just  going 
for  a  little  canter  after  some  antelope,  and  I  '11  tell  the 
boys  when  I  get  back  that  I  had  a  long  chase  of  it. 

'  •  I  reckon  the  looks  of  my  pony  will  bear  out  that 
last  statement,  if  I  get  in  much  before  midnight." 


302  THE  COWBOY'S  OPINION. 

* '  It  will  be  a  sad  thing  for  the  members  of  the  colo 
ny,  if  what  you  think  is  in  store  for  us  proves  true, "  said 
Phil. 

First  satisfying  himself  that  no  one  but  Phil  would 
hear  what  he  had  to  say,  the  cow  puncher  remarked  with 
emphasis : 

"  And  if  you  fellows  have  the  sand  to  make  a  fight, 
and  so  bring  the  question  of  who  owns  this  country  be 
fore  the  world,  it  will  be  a  sad  day  for  the  cattle  compa 
nies.  There'll  be  'weeping  and  gnashing  of  teeth,' 
sure. " 

Putting  spurs  to  his  pony,  he  was  soon  out  of  sight 
in  the  gathering  darkness. 


CHAPTER   XX. 

I   ROUGH-AND-TUMBLE    FIGHT — MR.    M'KINLEY    ASSISTS   IN 
SAVING   THE    COUNTRY. 

The  rumor  that  troops  were  to  be  again  sent  to  take 
away  the  settlers  spread  rapidly,  and  produced  the  wild 
est  excitement. 

Instead  of  diminishing,  the  crowd  about  the  printing 
office  constantly  augmented,  and  at  midnight  was  many 
times  greater  than  at  sundown. 

A  bonfire  had  been  built  early  in  the  evening,  which, 
flashing  out  across  the  prairie,  attracted  the  attention  ot 
one  and  another  of  the  settlers. 

Every  one  who  saw  it  wondered  what  it  could  mean, 
and  while  wondering  grew  uneasy  in  his  mind  regarding 
it  and  hastened  over  to  his  neighbor's  house  to  ask  if  he 
knew  what  its  meaning  was.  Then  the  two  looked,  and 
saw  the  flames  leap  up  and  flare  out,  and  a  shower  of 
sparks  arise  as  some  one  threw  on  fresh  fuel ;  saw  the 


304  THE  BALE-FIRE'S  GLEAM. 

group  of  men  standing  by,  and  wondered  yet  more  what 
it  could  mean. 

Wondering  and  speculating,  they  heard  the  hallo  of 
a  third  neighbor,  calling  to  them  from  the  road,  asking 
if  they  were  going  up  to  see  what  the  bonfire  meant. 

They  joined  him,  and  all  three  went  together ;  and 
so,  from  every  direction,  men,  singly  and  in  groups  of 
three  or  four  and  a  dozen,  began  to  come  in  and  swell 
the  crowd  about  the  fire,  and,  hearing  the  rumors,  to  talk 
loudly  of  resistance  or  to  keep  silent  and  to  finger  their 
weapons. 

The  bale-fires  built  by  old-time  Scottish  chiefs  to  call 
the  clans  together,  the  blast  by  Roderick  Dhu  on  lone 
Benledi's  side,  were  scarce  more  magical  in  their  effects 
than  was  this  bonfire  built  upon  a  little  eminence  away 
out  on  the  prairies  of  Oklahoma,  albeit  there  was  no 
previous  understanding  that  it  should  be  the  signal  for 
the  rallying  of  any  clan. 

And  never  did  bolder  men  gather  at  any  bugle  blast 
or  bale-fire's  gleam  than  gathered  there  that  night  and 
discussed  the  probability  of  the  story  told  by  the  cowboy 
being  true. 

Some  asked  what  could  be  done  ;  others  told  what 
they  would  do  in  case  eviction  was  attempted. 

What  they  would  do  ? 

What  could  they  do  ? 

"  Can  we  again  submit  quietly  to  being  driven  from 


QUANDARY   NO,    3,  30$ 

our  claims,  insulted,  imprisoned,  robbed  ?  Can  we  lift 
hands  against  the  authority  of  the  government  to  which 
we  owe  allegiance  ?  Against  men  who  wear  the  uniform 
and  carry  the  flag  of  our  country  ?" 

"What  can  we,  do  ?" 

"  Can  we  see  our  families  rendered  homeless,  subject 
to  indignities — God  knows  what — and  make  no  resist 
ance  ?  Shall  we  lift  no  strong  hand  to  defend  them  or 
avenge  them  ?" 

* '  Can  we  leave  this  fair  land,  and  with  it  all  our 
bright  visions  of  comfort  and  happiness,  because  a  syn 
dicate  of  rich  men,  many  of  them  aliens  to  the  govern 
ment  and  enemies  of  the  Republic,  want  it  for  herding 
grounds  for  their  cattle  ?" 

Such  were  the  questions  they  asked  themselves  and 
each  other,  standing  about  the  bonfire  that  night  in  early 
December.  This  is  the  conclusion  they  came  to  : 

"  Rather  than  be  driven  off  again,  we  will  fight." 

And  yet  to  do  so  was  to  array  themselves  against  the 
old  flag. 

Could  they  do  that  ? 

In  their  desperation  they  said  they  could. 

They  said  the  flag  had  ceased  to  represent  liberty  and 
justice  ;  that  the  government  no  longer  protected  the 
weak  against  the  strong  ;  that  it  was  no  longer  worthy  of 
respect  and  reverence. 

Yet,  within  their  hearts,  the  echo  of  their  own  terri- 


3O6  DECIDE   TO  FIGHT. 

ble  words  caused  sharp  pangs,  and  their  awful  meaning 
caused  them  to  hesitate  and  grow  silent 

Could  they  fight  ? 

What  would  they  do  ? 

What  could  they  do  ? 


It  was  not  until  two  weeks  later  that  the  troops  came 
detachment  from  Fort  Reno,  headed  by  Lieutenant 
Knight,  acting  under  orders  of  his  superior  officer. 

In  regular  line  of  battle  the  troops  advanced,  and 
they  were  met  by  the  colonists — armed  and  ready  for  the 
contest. 

The  latter  had  decided  that  they  could  not  submit  to 
being  again  driven  from  their  homes  without  making 
armed  resistance. 

They  had  the  law,  justice  and  the  decision  of  a  Dis 
trict  Court  on  their  side.  So  they  felt,  and  they  would 
fight. 

Marching  his  troops  up  to  within  short  rifle  range  of 
the  colonists,  who  had  thrown  up  some  slight  breast 
works  in  front  of  the  printing  office  and  school  house 
and  were  waiting  to  receive  them,  Lieutenant  Knight 
sant  an  orderly  with  a  demand  for  an  immediate  surren- 


"TURN  'EM  LOOSE."  307 

der.  This  demand  was  refused.  Surrender  could  not  be 
even  thought  of. 

"Go  tell  your  master  to  turn  his  dogs  loose !" 

Such  was  the  answer  sent  back  by  the  leader  of  the 
colonists  in  response  to  the  demand  for  immediate  sur 
render. 

Turning  to  the  colonists,  he  added  : 

"Prepare  to  defend  yourselves." 

This  was  not  just  what  the  Lieutenant  expected,  and 
it  put  a  new  and  not  entirely  pleasant  face  upon  the  situ 
ation. 

The  commanding  officer  found  his  force  of  less  than 
one  hundred  opposed  by  at  least  an  equal  number  of 
determined  men,  all  of  them  good  shots  and  well  armed, 
and  protected  in  some  degree  by  the  redoubt  which  they 
had  thrown  up. 

An  order  to  his  troops  to  fire  would  surely  be  met  by 
a  volley  from  the  settlers,  which  might  wipe  out  his  little 
company  of  regulars  at  the  first  round,  and  would  surely 
do  so  before  the  firing  ceased. 

His  own  life  would  not  be  worth  a  rush,  once  he  gave 
the  order  to  begin  the  attack. 

Therefore,  the  Lieutenant  concluded  that  discretion 
is  the  better  part  of  valor,  and  he  decided  upon  using 
strategy.  He  asked  for  a  parley,  which  was  granted. 

The  leader,  Phil  Johnson,  Mr.  McKinley,  Mr.  Jones 
and  Tom  Price  went  out  between  the  lines  and  met  the 


$o8  THE  LIEUTENANT'S  STRATEGY. 

Lieutenant,  who  was  accompanied  by  an  escort  befitting 
the  occasion. 

The  pour-parlers  held  a  long  consultation.  The  Lieu 
tenant  tried  to  convince  them  of  the  uselessness  of  their 
offering  resistance.  The  pioneers  answered  that,  since 
nothing  else  was  left  them,  they  were  compelled  to  fight. 
Only  by  resistance  could  they  bring  the  question  of  their 
right  to  settle  in  those  parts  before  the  country,  and  so 
arouse  a  public  sentiment  which  would  save  the  whole 
of  Oklahoma,  the  Cherokee  Strip  and  the  Public  Land 
Strip  to  the  people,  which  else  would  remain  for  ever  in 
the  grip  of  the  syndicates  and  cattle  kings. 

After  more  than  an  hour  spent  in  this  kind  o{  argu 
ment,  the  parties  separated  and  the  soldiers  went  into 
camp  on  the  spot. 

The  colonists,  not  believing  an  attack  would  be  vent 
ured  upon  and  not  intending  to  begin  an  attack  but  only 
to  act  in  defense  of  their  lives  and  their  property,  simply 
lounged  about,  chatting  and  smoking.  But  they  stayed 
close  by  their  arms  and  kept  a  watchful  lookout  on  the 
camp  of  the  soldiers. 

By-and-by  the  Lieutenant  came  strolling  over  to  the 
settlers'  camp,  accompanied  by  an  orderly.  A  little  later 
a.  Corporal  and  three  privates  strolled  over,  and  after  a 
bit  a  few  more  soldiers. 

Discipline  appeared  to  be  pretty  loose,  considering 
that  they  were  regulars,  but  as  they  left  their  arms  be* 


SCHEMING  TO  AVOID  BLOODSHED.  309 

and  nothing  was  thought  of  it  by  the  unsuspecting  colo 
nists. 

The  settlers  understood  as  well  as  did  the  Lieutenant 
that  only  as  the  very  last  resort  was  blood  to  be  shed,  or 
such  a  course  pursued  as  to  compel  the  country  to  take 
recognition  of  what  was  going  on. 

No  John  Brown  affair  was  to  be  made  of  this  thing— 
no  martyr  blood  shed  if  it  was  possible  to  avoid  it;  but 
a  quiet  removal  of  the  settlers,  the  imprisonment  of  the 
leaders  for  a  time  and  their  discharge  without  trial  after 
their  followers  had  scattered.  This  would  raise  no 
storm.  This  would  never  be  heard  of  by  the  country. 
This  was  the  thiMg-  intended. 

Well  knowing  this,  the  settlers  thought  nothing  very 
strange  when — the  attempt  to  frighten  them  into  leaving 
having  apparently  been  abandoned — the  soldiers  lounged 
about  without  arms,  and  so  strolled  over  to  the  opposite 
camp,  only  a  few  rods  away. 

The  unarmed  soldiers  mingled  freely  in  the  camp  of 
the  settlers  and  chatted  with  some  degree  of  friendliness, 
for  the  soldiers  had  personally  no  enmity  against  the 
colonists  and  the  colonists  understood  that  the  soldiers 
were  but  obeying  orders. 

At  sundown  the  soldiers  were  recalled  to  their  camp, 
and  the  settlers  slept  upon  their  arms,  after  eating  such 
food  as  was  brought  to  them  from  their  several  homes  or 
as  they  cooked  around  their  camp  fire, 


310  LAYING    THE   TRAP. 

Both  parties  put  out  pickets — the  regulars  only  for 
purposes  of  discipline,  for  they  knew  they  would  not  be 
attacked. 

The  settlers  did  not  know  that  the  regulars  would  not 
attack  them,  though  they  did  not  expect  it,  knowing  that 
a  more  quiet  plan  would  be  devised  if  the  commandant 
could  arrange  it. 

Next  day  the  soldiers  and  citizens  fraternized  in  the 
camp  of  the  latter,  and  mingled  more  freely  than  on  the 
day  before.  That  is  to  say,  there  were  more  soldiers — 
in  fact,  about  all  the  soldiers  except  the  guards,  who 
paced  back  and  forth  in  front  of  the  Lieutenant's  tent 
and  the  commissary  wagon.  They  appeared  to  have 
come  over  for  a  friendly  talk  and  smoke  with  the  back 
woodsmen. 

Lieut.  Knight  came  with  them,  and  after  chatting 
pleasantly  awhile  with  the  president  he  proposed  that  he 
call  together  eight  or  ten  of  the  more  influential  settlers, 
and  hold  another  conference.  He  said  he  hoped  to  con 
vince  them  of  the  folly  of  continued  resistance,  and  so 
end  the  matter. 

The  president  replied  that  he  had  no  objection  to  the 
Lieutenant  talking  to  as  many  of  the  settlers  as  he  chose. 
He  was  assured,  in  advance,  that  nothing  which  he  could 
say  would  change  things.  If  he  got  them  out  of  Okla 
homa  this  time  he  must  do  it  by  force,  as  they  were  now 
determined  to  make  a  stand  for  their  rights. 


ODD   ARMY   TACTICS.  311 

However,  he  called  Phil  Johnson,  Mr.  McKinley  and 
a  dozen  other  colonists  into  the  printing  office,  and  told 
the  Lieutenant  to  go  ahead  with  his  entertainment. 

As  those  inside  talked,  those  outside  gathered  about 
the  doors  and  windows  of  the  little  frame  shanty,  and 
listened. 

At  first  those  gathered  around  seemed  to  be  about 
equally  citizens  and  soldiers,  but  after  a  bit  there  were 
more  soldiers  and  fewer  citizens,  and  gradually  these  few 
were  crowded  back  until  a. cordon  of  soldiers  surrounded 
the  building,  and  a  number  had  entered  it. 

Phil  Johnson  noticed  this  disposition  on  the  part  of 
the  soldiers  to  crowd  forward,  and  he  grew  suspicious. 
It  was  not  customary  for  privates  in  the  regular  army  to 
attend  a  conference  with  the  officers,  even  where  the 
meeting  was  in  a  way  informal  and  in  their  midst,  as  was 
this  one. 

He  felt  sure  that  an  attempt  was  to  be  made  to  cap 
ture  those  in  the  shanty,  thinking  that  by  securing  them 
without  bloodshed  or  the  use  of  arms  the  others  would 
capitulate  without  a  fight. 

Nor  was  he  wrong  in  his  conclusions,  for  suddenly,  at 
a  signal  from  the  Lieutenant,  the  soldiers  pressed  for 
ward  and  attempted  to  seize  upon  the  persons  of  the  set 
tlers,  two  or  three  reaching  for  one  man. 

The  officer  expected  to  secure  them  almost  before  his 
intentions  were  understood. 


$12  A   ROUGH-AND-TUMBLE   FIGHT. 

But  his  calculations  for  the  coup  were  far  too  opti 
mistic. 

Phil  Johnson,  at  least,  was  prepared,  and  at  the  first 
move  indicating  treachery  his  fist  went  straight  out  from 
his  shoulder,  and  a  man  in  uniform  went  sprawling  over 
the  floor  in  front  of  his  companions,  causing  several  to 
stumble  and  fall. 

This  prompt  action  on  Phil's  part  gave  his  comrades 
time  to  realize  the  situation. 

And  now  began  one  of  the  oddest  rough-and-tumble 
fights  on  record — a  fight  with  fists  between  soldiers  of 
the  regular  army,  led  by  a  commissioned  officer,  and  a 
body  of  frontiersmen  cooped  up  in  a  shanty. 

Nor  was  the  fighting  confined  to  those  inside,  for  the 
settlers  outside  the  printing  office  heard  the  sounds  of 
the  melee  and  attempted  to  push  their  way  inside. 

Being  resisted  by  the  soldiers  about  the  door  and  win 
dows,  who  were  acting  under  orders  of  a  Sergeant  and 
two  Corporals,  blows  fell  thick  and  fast,  and  in  a  few 
moments  a  free  fight  was  going  on  that  would  have  done 
credit  to  Donnybrook  Fair  in  its  palmiest  days. 

Inside  the  shanty,  a  half-dozen  settlers,  crowded  into 
one  corner  by  twice  or  thrice  their  number,  were  making 
the  best  fight  their  cramped  condition  would  permit. 
Blows,  the  force  of  which  was  greatly  lessened  by  the 
nearness  of  the  combatants  to  each  other,  but  which 
Started  noses  to  bleeding  and  caused  black  eyes  to  sud- 


A  BAD  MIX-UP.  313 

denl>  ippear  and  bumps  to  start  forth  in  profusion  upon 
heads  were  being  given  and  taken  on  both  sides. 

At  the  other  end  of  the  shanty  the  combatants  had 
overturned  the  cases  of  type.  Some  had  stumbled  over 
these  c\nd  others  had  been  knocked  over  them,  and  the 
soldiers  and  settlers  were  mixed  up  in  an  indistinguisha 
ble  mass. 

It  was  a  bad  mess  of  printer's  "pi." 

Among  those  entangled  were  the  Captain,  McKinley, 
Jones  and  the  Lieutenant,  though  to  have  picked  out  any 
one  of  them  and  separated  him  from  the  others  would 
have  app^ired  quite  an  impossibility,  as  nothing  was  to 
be  seen  except  aa  indiscriminate  pile  of  legs,  arms  and 
heads. 

Beginning  at  the  bottom,  there  appeared,  as  nearly 
as  could  be  seen,  first  a  couple  of  cases  of  type,  then  a 
man  in  uniform,  then  Mr.  McKinley  and  the  ink  keg, 
then  another  soldier  and  more  cases  of  type,  then  Lieu 
tenant  Knight  and  old  man  Jones,  then  more  soldiers 
and  the  leader  of  the  colony  with  more  cases  of  type  and 
more  men,  both  in  uniform  and  without  it. 

After  this  fashion  the  battle  raged,  and  for  a  time  vic 
tory  appeared  loath  to  decide  between  these  unscientific 
combatants. 

Within  the  shanty  the  settlers  were  getting  the  worst 
of  it,  so  far  as  could  be  judged  from  appearances.  As 
they  were  hemmed  in  ar^d  fighting  two  or  three  times 


314  DESPOILERS   RETREAT. 

their  own  numoers,  they  were  at  a  disadvantage  and  had 
barely  held  their  own. 

Outside  the  shanty  the  citizens  were  in  the  majority, 
and  they  were  crowding  the  soldiers  and  rolling  them  in 
the  dirt.  Here  and  there,  on  the  outskirts  of  the  crowd, 
might  be  found  two  combatants  who  had  gotten  a  little 
separated  from  the  thickest  of  the  fray  and  were  having 
it  out  by  themselves. 

But,  after  a  bit,  the  advantage  which  the  settlers  had 
became  apparent.  The  soldiers  were  not  used  to  this 
kind  of  warfare,  and  had  no  particular  relish  for  it. 
They  fought  simply  because  they  had  orders  to  fight,  and 
not  because  they  loved  the  pastime. 

The  colonists  enjoyed  it.  It  was  their  opportunity 
to  even  things  up  a  little,  and  they  improved  it  to  the 
utmost  for  five  or  ten  minutes.  By  this  time  the  soldiers 
outside  were  drawing  off  for  repairs,  and  those  just  inside 
were  reached  for,  drawn  out  and  forcibly  started  off  in 
the  direction  of  their  camp. 

Then  a  separation  of  the  mass  of  arms  and  legs  and 
heads  on  the  floor  of  the  shanty  began,  and  was  contin 
ued  until  all  had  risen,  or  had  been  picked  up  and  car 
ried  out. 

Next  to  the  last  man  in  the  pile  to  be  found  and  lifted 
up  was  Mr.  McKinley. 

He  was  pretty  badly  battered  up,  but  not  in  a  worse 
condition  than  the  soldier  underneath  him,  with  whom 


WIPING  OFF  THE  INK.  31 5 

he  had  been  contending  since  the  fight  began.  Both  had 
been  bitten  and  clawed  about  the  face,  and  both  were 
covered  with  printer's  ink  until  neither  was  recognizable 
by  his  comrades.  It  was  not  until  Mr.  McKinley  had 
been  dragged  off  the  soldier  under  him  and  set  upon  his 
feet  in  the  open  air  that  he  was  identified,  and  they  did 
not  know  him  then  until  he  spoke. 

Wiping  the  ink  from  his  face  with  his  hand  and  then 
glaring  at  the  retreating  regulars,  he  drew  himself  up  and 
remarked  : 

' '  I  think  that  particular  portion  of  the  regular  army 
hesitate  before  again  offering  me  an  insult." 


The  reader  may  think  it  strange  that  a  fight  with  fists 
•»  such  as  is  above  described — should  actually  occur  be 
tween  citizens  and  soldiers,  and  no  arms  be  used.  Yet, 
'Such  a  fight  did  occur ;  and  there  is  nothing  very  strange 
about  it  when  all  the  attending  conditions  are  kept  in  the 
mind's  eye. 

The  soldiers  wished  to  remove  the  citizens  without 
taking  life.  Failing  to  overawe  them,  they  attempted  to 
arrest  the  leaders  in  a  mai.  ]er  such  as  would  not  provoke 
the  use  of  bullets. 

On  the  other  hand,   the  settlers  respected  the  fact 


3l6  A   DRAWN   BATTLE. 

that  those  who  sought  to  arrest  them  wore  the  uniform 
of  the  United  States,  and  so  wished,  if  possible,  to  avoid 
taking  their  lives,  yet  were  determined  not  to  be  driven 
off  their  claims. 

Here,  then,  was  the  strongest  possible  incentive  on 
both  sides  not  to  take  life,  but  on  the  one  hand  to  arrest 
and  on  the  other  hand  to  resist  arrest  without  blood 
shed  ;  and  when  the  soldiers  found  they  could  not  effect 
the  arrest  without  precipitating  a  fight  with  arms,  they 
got  out  of  it  as  easily  as  they  could,  which  was  not  so 
easily  as  they  could  have  wished,  as  many  of  them  car 
ried  black  eyes  and  swollen  heads  and  a  banged-up  front 
generally  for  days. 

But  many  of  the  home  defenders  were  in  the  same 
fix,  so  the  fight  may  properly  go  down  into  history  as  a 
drawn  battle. 

Both  armies  slept  that  night  upon  the  same  ground 
which  they  had  occupied  in  the  morning,  and  both  slept 
upon  their  arms. 


•:os- 


CHAPTER  XXI. 


MR.     M'KINL£Y   GOES   TO   JAIL,     AND   FINALLY    RETURNS   TO 
THE   BANKS   OF   THE   WABASH, 

On  the  morning  following  the  day  on  which  the 
rough-and-tumble  fight  had  occurred  the  soldiers  were 
withdrawn,  and  the  settlers  were  at  liberty  to  return  to 
their  families. 

At  first  very  few  of  them  were  inclined  to  regard  the 
result  of  the  fight  as  a  real  victory. 

True,  they  had  given  rather  more  black  eyes  and 
broken  heads  than  they  had  received  in  return,  and  the 
enemy  had  now  withdrawn  from  the  field  of  battle  ;  but 
still  they  had  a  feeling  that  the  end  was  not  yet,  and 
what  added  to  this  feeling  was  that  the  soldiers  had  not 
withdrawn  toward  Fort  Reno,  whence  they  came,  but 
had  moved  away  in  the  direction  of  Fort  Russell,  where 
it  was  known  that  a  considerable  body  of  United  States 
troops  were  stationed. 


ji8  MR.  M'KINLEY'S  BELIEF. 

Among  the  few  who  took  a  more  cheerful  view  of  th« 
matter,  and  who  believed  that  they  had  really  conquered 
a  peace,  was  Mr.  McKinley.  Perhaps  he  was  the  only 
one  who  looked  at  it  in  that  way  at  the  very  first,  but  if 
so  he  soon  inspired  others  with  his  own  views  of  the 
case,  and  pretty  soon  one  and  another  began  to  look  at 
it  as  he  did  and  to  regard  the  matter  in  the  light  of  a 
great  victory. 

He  would  say  : 

< '  I  tell  you,  gentlemen,  they  are  licked — licked,  Sir 
— and  they  will  not  come  back.  And  if  they  do,  we  '11 
lick  'em  again.  We  can  do  it — do  it  easy.  Why,  if  you 
men  outside  the  shanty  had  fought  the  way  me  and  the 
Captain  and  Phil  Johnson  did,  there  would  n't  be  any  of 
'em  left  now.  They  were  three  to  one  agin  us  when  the 
fight  commenced — yes,  Sir,  three  to  one  and  more,  too 
' — but  you  ought  to  see  the  way  we  piled  'em  up — yes, 
Sir,  piled  'em  up.  Why,  me  and  the  Captain  and  Phil 
Johnson  and  old  man  Jones  piled  'em  up  in  a  pile,  and 
then  fell  on  to  'em  and  pounded  'em  till  we  was  tired — 
yes,  Sir,  till  we  was  tired.  You  just  ought  to  have  seen 
the  way  we  did  it. 

*  'And  as  for  their  retreatin'  in  the  direction  of  Fort 
Russell,  that  's  nothing  strange.  They  're  'fraid  and 
'shamed  to  go  back  to  Fort  Reno,  and  own  that  they  got 
licked.  Like  as  not  some  of  'em  died  last  night  of  their 
wounds — some  of  'em  was  hurt  mighty  bad — and  they  're 


DRESSING  THE  WOUNDS.  319 

just  goin*  off  that  way  to  bury  'em  on  the  sly,  so  's  not 
to  have  it  known.  Don't  you  be  afraid ;  they  aint  com 
ing  back.  Reckon  they  've  got  sense  enough  to  know 
when  they  're  licked,  if  that  's  all  they  have  got." 

It  is  never  very  hard  to  make  men  believe  that  which 
they-wish  to  believe,  and  the  faith  which  Mr.  McKinley 
possessed  that  the  regulars  had  abandoned  the  contest 
and  left  not  to  return  imparted  itself  to  others,  and  soon 
a  voice  somewhere  in  the  crowd  made  an  attempt  at  a 
cheer. 

Like  other  cheers  which  are  without  support,  this 
particular  "  hip-hip"  sounded  weak  to  start  on,  and  it 
grew  weaker  as  it  progressed,  but  it  was  not  long  before 
the  spirits  of  the  crowd  had  raised  sufficiently  to  induce 
some  one  else  to  start  a  cheer,  which  this  time  was 
joined  in  by  half  the  company,  and  grew  in  volume  as  it 
went  until  the  last  " hurrah"  gave  indication  of  having  a 
good  deal  of  confidence  in  itself. 

Now,  while  the  majority  of  them  were  feeling  their 
spirits  rise  with  the  departure  of  the  troops  and  with  the 
hopeful  view  of  the  situation  which  Mr.  McKinley  in 
sisted  upon  everybody's  taking,  there  were  those  among 
them  who  felt  that,  now  the  need  for  suffering  in  silence 
was  over,  they  would  like  very  much  to  have  their  hurts 
and  bruises  attended  to. 

Among  them  there  were  several  who  had  received 
wounds  of  a  painful  character. 


330  PHH-    RECEIVES    CONSOLATION, 

Phil  Johnson  had  received  quite  a  long  and  deep  gash 
across  the  scalp,  apparently  made  by  a  column  rule, 
wielded  by  some  one  who  in  the  general  melee  had  hap 
pened  to  get  his  hand  on  it.  Old  man  Jones,  the  presi 
dent  and  a  dozen  others  had  bruises  and  cuts  that  were 
painful,  though  not  of  a  dangerous  character,  none  of 
which  had  as  yet  received  any  attention,  except  that 
Phil  had  bound  up  his  head  with  a  handkerchief. 

The  handkerchief  had  answered  very  well,  so  long  as 
there  was  a  necessity  of  remaining  on  guard  against  an 
other  possible  assault ;  but,  now  that  the  soldiers  had 
gone,  Phil  felt  that  he  needed  something  further  in  the 
way  of  attention  to  his  injuries.  He  repaired  to  the 
McKinley  home,  that  being  the  place  where  he  felt  cer 
tain  of  receiving  the  consolation  which  his  wounds  now 
required. 

Of  course,  he  received  it. 

Nettie  furnished  the  consolation,  and  her  mother  the 
iniment  and  bandages,  and  between  them  they  fixed 
him  up  as  good  as  new  ;  in  fact,  they  made  him  feel  that 
he  should  be  tempted  to  have  his  head  laid  open  every 
once  in  a  while,  just  for  the  pleasure  of  having  it  repaired 
again. 

Mr.  McKinley  also  required  and  received  careful  at 
tention  at  the  hands  of  his  wife  and  daughters. 

He  was  not  very  seriously  hurt — not  quite  so  badly 
as  he  wished  he  was  when  he  saw  that  Phil's  having  his 


COMBING   OUT   THE    INK.  3d  I 

head  tied  up  was  accepted  as  proof  that  he  had  been 
where  the  fight  raged  hottest. 

He  had,  however,  some  black-and-blue  spots  on  his 
person  and  about  his  face,  from  one  of  which  a  few 
drops  of  blood  had  issued  and  dried,  and  a  sight  of  the 
red  stain  made  upon  the  cloth  with  which  his  wife  was 
striving  to  remove  the  ink  from  his  face  satisfied  him. 
He  had  fought  and  bled  for  his  country,  and  he  was  now 
content. 

Two  or  three  hours  were  required  to  get  the  printer's 
ink  out  of  his  hair  and  off  his  person.  His  wife  and 
daughters  soaped  and  scrubbed  away  diligently,  without 
causing  him  to  utter  a  complaint  of  any  kind.  He  felt 
that  he  was  having  his  wounds  dressed,  and  that  the  time 
spent  over  him  was  evidence  of  the  undaunted  bravery 
with  which  he  had  led  the  contest. 

Mr.  McKinley  was  now  positive  that  he  should  never 
again  run  a  ferry  boat.  If  he  was  not  called  onto  organ 
ize  a  regiment  for  the  protection  of  the  frontier  of  the 
Territory  when  it  should  be  organized,  he  would  accept 
a  seat  in  the  Legislature,  and  serve  his  country  there 
with  a  dignity  equal  to  the  desperate  courage  which  he 
had  displayed  in  fighting  for  its  independence  upon  this 
memorable  occasion. 

Thus  was  Mr.  McKinley  mentally  occupied  while  his 
devoted  wife  was  conducting  the  work  necessary  to  his 
physical  repair  and  rejuvenation.  Sorry  was  he  when, 


322  AN   UNSETTLED   FEELING. 

this  task  finished,  he  realized  that  matters  of  grave  con 
cern  demanded  his  immediate  attention.  His  was  the 
usual  regret  attendant  upon  the  sudden  termination  of  a 
day-dream. 


The  unsettled  feeling  among  the  colonists  that  came 
as  a  consequence  of  the  events  just  recorded  caused  an- 
other  postponement  by  Phil  and  Nettie  of  their  intended 
wedding. 

There  was  no  one  living  in  the  settlement  wlio  was 
legally  authorized  to  officiate  at  weddings  ;  and  in  the 
uncertainty  of  what  might  be,  they  delayed  their  pro 
posed  trip  to  a  place  at  which  they  could  be  united  and 
begin  their  honeymoon. 

They  felt  the  better  contented  to  do  this  now  that 
Phil  was  spending  most  of  his  time  at  Mr.  McKinley's 
house,  being  for  several  days  quite  unfit  to  do  any  thing, 
and  for  a  still  longer  period  suffering  severely  from  a  rush 
of  blood  to  the  head  whenever  he  bent  over  ;  so  that  he 
made  little  attempt  to  work  on  his  claim,  but  kept  him- 


SIX   HUNDRED   STRONG.  323 

self  closely  in  the  house  and  suffered  himself  to  be  made 
much  of  and  coddled  without  a  murmur. 

Neither  did  any  of  the  colonists  feel  greatly  inclined 
to  go  on  with  their  intended  improvement. 

They  tried  to^Jiope  that  the  troops  had  gone  not  to 
return,  but  they  doubted  if  they  had.  Even  Mr.  McKin- 
ley  could  not  keep  alive  their  belief  that  the  soldiers  had 
been  too  badly  frightened  to  think  of  returning,  and  that 
the  Lieutenant  was  sure  to  make  such  a  report  to  his 
superiors  as  would  discourage  them  from  renewing  the 
attack. 

Hence  they  did  little  except  to  secure  a  small  portion 
of  their  crops,  and  wait  and  watch  for  what  the  future 
had  in  store  for  them. 

Now,  if  preference  could  be  followed  in  this  narra 
tive,  Mr.  McKinley  would  be  sustained  in  his  belief  that 
the  government  was  too  badly  scared  to  take  any  further 
steps  in  the  matter  of  removing  squatters  from  Okla 
homa  ;  but  a  stern  resolve  to  adhere  to  the  facts  compels 
a  different  course. 

The  soldiers  did  return,  and  they  came  back  six  hun 
dred  strong,  being  reinforced  by  a  detachment  from  Fort 
Russell ;  and,  still  under  the  command  of  Lieutenant 
Knight,  they  surrounded  the  little  band  of  colonists,  who 
had  learned  of  their  approach  and  boldly  set  out  to  fight 
them. 

Having  surrounded  them,  the  army  sat  down  to  starve 


$24  NETTIE   SEES    HER   LOVER    IN   JAIL. 

them  into  submission,  a  feat  which  it  accomplished  in  a 
week  by  cutting  off  all  supplies  which  their  families  at 
tempted  to  carry  to  them  and  by  preventing  them  from 
obtaining  food  for  themselves. 

And  then  they  compelled  them  to  pack  up  for  the 
third  time  their  household  goods,  put  their  wives  and 
children  into  the  wagons,  and  after  setting  fire  to  the 
printing  office  without  having  first  permitted  the  removal 
of  the  press,  type  and  other  appurtenances,  conveyed 
them  out  of  the  Territory  in  the  same  manner  that  they 
had  done  twice  before. 

At  the  State  line  all  except  the  leader,  Phil  Johnson 
and  Mr.  McKinley  were  released  and  told  to  go  where 
they  would,  so  they  did  not  return  to  the  disputed  terri 
tory.  These  three  men  were  taken  to  one  of  the  larger 
towns  of  the  State,  turned  over  to  the  civil  authorities 
and  put  in  jail. 

After  some  delay  the  leader  obtained  bail  for  himself 
in  the  sum  of  $3,000,  and  as  soon  as  he  had  secured  his 
own  release  he  set  about  obtaining  the  release  of  his  two 
companions. 

Mrs.  McKinley  had  followed  on  with  the  family  wher. 
she  learned  where  her  husband  was,  and  thus  Nettie  saw 
her  father  and  lover  in  jail. 

Bail  was  at  last  secured  for  both,  and  they  were  then 
released.  Again  arose  the  question  as  to  what  should  be 
done. 


WHO  OWNS  OKLAHOMA?  32$ 

Should  they  again  rally  their  friends  and  enter  Okla 
homa  at  once  ? 

Where  were  the  colonists  who  had  just  been  driven 
out? 

A  portion  of  them,  they  learned,  were  still  in  camp, 
or  had  scattered  along  the  borders  of  Kansas,  awaiting 
another  opportunity  to  enter  Oklahoma  and  take  posses 
sion  of  their  claims.  Others  had  become  discouraged  or 
had  exhausted  their  means,  and  could  not  return  imme 
diately. 

Leaving  Mrs'.  McKinley  and  the  family  at  the  town 
where  the  men  had  been  incarcerated,  Phil  and  the  oth 
ers  went  to  the  vicinity  where  the  larger  portion  of  the 
colonists  were,  and  after  getting  some  of  them  together 
asked  them  what  their  wishes  were  regarding  an  immedi 
ate  return  to  Oklahoma. 

For  themselves,  they  told  them  that  they  were  ready 
to  return  at  once,  but  would  have  to  be  back  at  the  time 
set  for  their  trial. 

Many  were  in  favor  of  going  back  at  once,  but  others 
declared  such  action  unwise.  They  thought  some  time 
could  be  spent  advantageously  in  efforts  to  enlighten  the 
country  regarding  the  struggle  between  themselves,  as 
representatives  of  the  people,  and  the  cattle  syndicates, 
through  the  press  and  by  other  means. 

It  had  been  learned  that  already  a  partial  knowledge 
of  the  outrages  committed  upon  them  had  reached  the 


326  THE  WAR  CHIEF. 

public  ear,  and  that  there  were  several  members  in  Con 
gress  who  would  respond  to  any  request  to  bring  th? 
matter  before  that  body. 

It  was  finally  resolved  to  refrain  for  the  time  being 
from  again  entering  the  disputed  territory,  and  to  devote 
the  interval  to  agitating  before  the  country  the  question: 
"  Who  Owns  Oklahoma  ?" 

Accordingly,  arrangements  were  made  for  the  estab< 
lishment  of  permanent  headquarters  at  Caldwell,  Kan 
sas,  which  is  close  to  the  territorial  line.  Fresh  printing 
materials  were  purchased,  and  their  newspaper,  bearing 
now  the  name  The  Oklahoma  War  Chief,  was  started 
again  and  placed  under  the  editorial  management  of  a 
competent  person,  with  orders  to  give  it  the  widest  pos* 
sible  circulation. 

Petitions  were  also  printed,  asking  Congress  to  take 
cognizance  of  the  matter  of  protecting  citizens  in  theil 
right  to  settle  in  Oklahoma. 

These  petitions,  published  in  such  journals  as  were 
in  possession  of  the  facts  of  the  case  and  friendly  to  the 
purpose  of  the  petitioners,  were  passed  from  hand  to 
hand  among  the  friends  of  the  colonists,  and,  signed  by 
thousands,  were  sent  rolling  in  upon  the  members  of  the 
House  and  Senate  of  the  United  States  and  upon  the 
President. 

This  procedure  frightened  the  cattle  kings,  and  they 
hastened  to  send  a  representative  to  Washington  to  bring 


SYNDICATE   LOBBY  ACTIVE.  327 

such  influence  to  bear  as  would  prevent  any  action  that 
might  be  unfavorable  to  their  interests  or  expose  the 
means  by  which  they  had  secured  the  aid  of  the  military 
arm  of  the  government  and  of  the  civil  courts  to  enable 
them  to  hold  possession  of  such  great  bodies  of  land, 
and  to  drive  from  their  homes,  arrest  and  imprison  men 
who  were  acting  in  good  faith,  in  accord  with  the  home 
stead  and  pre-emption  laws  of  the  country  and  in  full 
harmony  with  the  practices  in  similar  cases  since  those 
laws  were  enacted. 

Nevertheless,  the  cattle  kings  were  only  partially  suc 
cessful. 

Public  sentiment  was  too  far  aroused  and  too  much 
in  sympathy  with  the  colonists  to  allow  the  matter  to  be 
left  untouched  by  Congress  and  the  President. 

Petitions  continued  to  roll  in,  and  more  than  one 
Congressman  received  hints  from  his  constituents  that  it 
would  be  better  for  his  future  prospects  if  he  would  heed 
the  demands  of  the  people  in  this  matter. 

The  politicians  at  length  began  to  feel  that  it  would 
be  a  good  stroke  of  policy  for  the  new  Administration  to 
make  some  show  of  being  interested  in  the  people,  even 
if  it  went  no  farther. 

Then  came  the  President's  order  for  everybody,  cat 
tle  king  and  squatter,  to  get  out  of  Oklahoma. 

It  was  a  field  day  for  the  colonists  when  they  heard 
read  the  President's  sweeping  order  in  the  matter. 


328  A  PARTIAL  VICTORY. 

Although  they  were  now  scattered  widely,  and  only 
such  as  were  connected  directly  with  the  work  of  putting 
a  knowledge  of  these  things  before  Congress  and  the 
country  were  at  Caldwell,  yet  this  news  was  to  them,  at 
whatever  point  located,  a  note  of  victory. 

The  colonists  knew  that  if  the  cattle  were  removed 
there  would  be  no  objectors  sufficiently  strong  to  prevent 
the  acknowledgment  by  the  Interior  Department  of  their 
right,  and  the  right  of  all  citizens  who  wished,  to  make 
homes  upon  the  prairies  and  along  the  beautiful  streams 
of  Oklahoma  and  the  Cherokee  Strip. 

The  trial  of  the  Captain,  Mr.  McKinley  and  Phil 
Johnson  for  violation  of  the  laws  in  entering  Oklahoma, 
never  came  off.  When  the  date  set  for  the  trial  arrived 
they  were  present  in  court,  but  were  discharged  without 
a  hearing,  although  they  strongly  protested  against  the 
nolle  prosequi. 

The  colonists  were  anxious  to  be  able  to  prove  again, 
as  once  before  they  had  proved  in  the  District  Court  at 
Topeka,  that  there  was  no  law  under  which  any  citizen 
could  be  punished  for  entering  upon  and  improving  the 
lands  in  question,  and  they  denounced  as  unjust  and  an 
outrage  their  arrest,  removal,  imprisonment  and  arraign 
ment,  only  to  be  discharged  without  opportunity  to  show 
proof  of  their  innocence  or  expose  the  flagrant  violation 
of  civil  law  by  the  military  in  persecuting  them  at  tile 
bidding  of  the  cattle  kings. 


A   FARCICAL   TRIAL. 

But  in  nothing  were  they  allowed  opportunity  to 
make  themselves  heard  by  the  court.  They  were  simply 
told  that,  since  their  followers  had  vacated  the  disputed 
territory,  they  would  not  be  prosecuted.  And  in  spite  of 
their  protest  against  this  attempt  to  convict  them  with 
out  trial,  they  were  compelled  to  bear  it. 

After  the  farcical  ending  of  this  pretended  trial,  and 
after  it  had  been  decided  that  the  colonists  would  not 
return  to  their  claims  at  once,  but  would  await  the  action 
of  Congress,  if  action  could  be  obtained  within  such  time 
as  should  be  considered  at  all  reasonable,  Mr.  McKin- 
ley's  family  thought  it  best  for  them  to  return  to  theii 
old  home  on  the  Wabash,  and  await  the  further  move 
ments  of  the  colony.  They  had  not  sold  the  old  place 
when  they  left  it — principally  because  no  one  wanted  to 
buy  it  at  much  of  a  figure. 

The  little  old  town  of  yore  was  still  a  little  old  town, 
and  the  few  acres  which  Mr.  McKinley  owned  possessed 
no  value  other  than  as  agricultural  land.  Not  knowing 
how  the  West  might  please  them,  they  had  decided  not 
to  accept  the  only  offer  they  had  had  for  it,  which  was 
from  a  farmer  who  owned  land  adjoining,  and  would  in 
all  probability  be  as  ready  to  purchase  it  a  year  or  two 
later  as  then. 

To  the  old  home,  then,  Mr.  McKinley 's  family  had 
returned,  with  the  exception  of  one  of  the  boys,  who 
obtained  work  with  the  team  in  Kansas,  and  decided  to 


33O  PATIENT   LOVE. 

remain  there  until  such  time  as  the  family  would  return 
to  enter  once  more  upon  their  Oklahoma  claim. 

Phil  and  Nettie  had  again  postponed  their  wedding, 
but  only  for  a  little  while. 

When  Phil  decided  that  he  must  remain  in  Kansas 
for  a  time,  and  help  to  start  the  movement  which  was  *.o 
bring  a  pressure  to  bear  upon  Congress  to  compel  action 
in  relation  to  Oklahoma,  Nettie  and  he  talked  the  mat 
ter  over  and  came  to  the  conclusion  that,  inasmuch  as 
Phil  must  be  constantly  moving  about  for  some  months, 
it  would  be  best  not  to  marry  until  this  part  of  the  work 
was  performed.  Nettie  decided,  therefore,  to  return  with 
her  parents  to  the  old  home,  and  there  wait  for  Phil's 
coming. 

Equally  with  Phil,  Nettie  felt  interested  in  the  settle 
ment  of  the  question  of  right  involved  in  the  contest  in 
which  they  were  engaged  with  the  cattle  syndicates. 

The  wrongs  done  to  the  colonists,  of  whom  she  had 
been  one,  the  insults  and  injuries  heaped  upon  her  father 
and  lover,  the  memory  of  their  having  been  tied  with 
ropes  like  criminals — all  these  things  had  aroused  the 
spirit  of  resistance  within  her,  and  she  was  as  ready  to 
iiiake  sacrifices  for  the  good  of  the  cause  as  was  Phil 
himself. 

And,  besides,  Nettie  was  in  love  with  her  Oklahoma 
home — or  Phil's  home,  which  she  was  to  share  with  him 
—and  she  wished  to  be  able  to  return  there  with  him. 


FRATERNAL   COLONISTS.  331 

and  with  her  father's  family  and  the  other  colonists, 
among  all  of  whom  had  grown  up  bonds  of  friendship 
which  made  them  seem  nearer  than  any  could  seem  who 
had  never  rejoiced  together  in  prospective  peace  and 
prosperity,  as  they,  had  done,  or  sympathized  with  one 
another  over  the  disappointments  and  losses  that  for  the 
time  had  broken  up  all  their  plans  and  hopes. 

She  was,  therefore,  anxious  that  Phil  and  others 
should  do  all  that  could  be  done  to  bring  about  a  peace 
ful  removal  of  the  difficulties  standing  in  the  way  of  the 
colonists'  return  and  their  permanent  settlement  of  the 
country. 

Nettie  and  Phil  had  spent  one  last  evening  together, 
taken  one  last  kiss,  exchanged  vows  of  eternal  constancy 
and  adoration,  and  she,  with  her  father  and  family,  had 
returned  to  the  old  home,  while  Phil  started  out.  on  his 
mission. 

But  he  went  with  a  light  heart. 

Just  so  soon  as  he  could  do  the  work  he  had  under 
taken  in  behalf  of  the  colony,  he  also  was  to  return  to 
the  old  home — to  his  father's  home — and  to  Nettie,  who 
would  then  become  his  wife. 

He  went  forth,  too,  with  Mr.  McKinley's  blessing,  for 
the  dignified  old  gentleman's  heart  was  warm  toward  his 
prospective  son-in-law. 

Phil  was  brave  and  ready,  and  the  old  man,  in  spite 
of  some  little  weaknesses,  was  fully  capable  of  appreci- 


33*  WHO   KNOWS? 

ating  courage  and  honesty  of  purpose ;  and,  besides  this, 
nobody  treated  him  with  more  deference  than  did  Phil. 

Perhaps  the  reverence  which,  in  his  boyish  days,  he 
had  felt  for  the  great  man  who  held  commission  from 
two  States  to  run  a  ferry  boat  on  the  Wabash  had  never 
quite  deserted  Phil. 

Still,  beneath  his  appearance  of  ingenuousness  were 
inaudible  whisperings  of  policy,  telling  him  it  was  wisest 
to  keep  on  the  good  side  of  the  father  of  the  girl  whom 
he  loved. 

Naturally,  he  had  a  high  sense  of  the  respect  due  to 
men  older  than  himself.  In  the  case  of  Mr.  McKinley 
he  probably  saw  more  clearly  than  did  others  of  his  inti- 

• 

mates  a  true  inward  dignity  in  the  man,  to  which  the 
outward  dignity  of  his  manner  was  but  an  ill-fitting  gar 
ment. 

When  the  old  gentleman  came  to  bid  Phil  good-by 
his  lips  trembled  a  little  and  his  voice  had  the  suspicion 
of  a  tremor  in  it. 

The  two  men,  the  old  man  and  the  young  one,  had 
been  in  prison  together  ;  they  had  ridden  together  many 
a  weary  mile  between  lines  of  soldiers — their  guards ; 
they  had  slept  side  by  side  upon  the  green  sward  of  the 
prairies,  and — yes,  they  had  fought  and  bled  together  in 
a  cause  sacred  to  both.  In  addition  to  these  strong  ties, 
Phil  was  soon  to  be  the  husband  of  the  old  man's  beau 
tiful  daughter.  And  now  that  they  were  to  be  parted  for 


PHIL'S   PATRIARCHAL   BLESSING.  333 

a  time,  he  would  give  the  boy  his  blessing.  Straightway 
he  proceeded  to  do  so. 

His  lips  trembled  a  little  at  first,  but  he  fought  hard 
against  a  display  of  emotion,  and  before  he  had  finished 
speaking  all  his  dignity  of  manner  and  fluency  of  lan 
guage  had  returned  to  him.  He  said  : 

"Go,  Philip,  and  do  the  work  which  is  for  you  to  do. 
You  have  my  blessing — the  blessing  of  a  man  who  has 
been  honored  by  having  shed  his  blood  for  his  couni/y 
and  in  defense  of  the  sacred  rights  of  the  people  to  set 
tle  in  Oklahoma," 


CHAPTER   XXII. 


£    FARMER- LOOKING    INDIVIDUAL,     WHO    ALSO    ENDURES   A 
THREE-PRONGED    FRONT    NAME. 

Phil  was  one  day  sitting  in  the  office  of  a  little  hotel 
in  one  of  the  frontier  towns  of  Kansas,  whither  he  had 
gone  on  colony  business,  when  a  stranger  dressed  in  the 
garb  of  a  farmer  entered. 

This  farmer-looking  individual  was  a  man  apparently 
55  or  60  years  of  age,  well  formed  and  preserved,  and 
wore  an  unusually  jovial  countenance. 

He  paused  for  a  second  upon  entering  the  door,  and 
glanced  around  the  room,  as  if  hoping  to  find  there  some 
one  to  whom  he  could  impart  the  impression — which  he 
held — that  this  is  as  good  a  world  as  any  one  need  wish 
to  live  in  ;  or,  if  not  that,  it  was  just  as  well  for  a  body 
not  to  be  aware  of  that  fact. 

Seeing  no  audience  other  than  Phil,  he  nodded  famil 
iarly  and  said : 

•'Howdy,  stranger.     Glad  to  meet  ye,18 
(354) 


A    FARMER-LOOKING    INDIVIDUAL.  335 

To  which  Phil  returned  an  equally  courteous  saluta 
tion. 

Though  a  stranger  to  Phil,  this  man  evidently  was  no 
stranger  to  the  house.  He  was,  in  fact,  a  resident  of  the 
vicinity  and  owned  a  farm  a  few  miles  out  in  the  country. 
Being  in  town  on  business,  he  had  dropped  into  the  hotel 
for  dinner,  as  is  the  custom  of  those  farmers  who  feel 
that  they  can  afford  to  spend  a  quarter  for  a  meal  now 
and  then  when  away  from  home  at  meal  time. 

After  nodding  to  Phil  he  walked  up  to  the  office  of 
the  clerk  and  was  in  the  act  of  reaching  for  one  of  those 
rusty,  ink-corroded  pens  which  usually  furnish  forth  the 
desks  of  such  hotels,  and  with  which  guests  are  expected 
to  perform  the  next  to  impossible  feat  of  legibly  record 
ing  their  names  in  the  hotel  register,  when  from  a  door 
opening  into  the  room  back  of  the  counter  the  landlord 
entered  and  greeted  the  new  comer  with  : 

"  Hallo,  Johnson!  That  you  ?  Glad  to  see  you — 
was  just  wishing  you  would  happen  to  drop  in.  Look 
here." 

The  last  two  words  were  spoken  in  a  low  tone,  and 
with  a  kind  of  confidential  air,  and  as  he  spoke  the  land 
lord  turned  the  register  around  and  shoved  it  in  front  of 
his  farmer-looking  guest,  pointing  to  some  entry  on  one 
of  its  pages. 

Now,  this  register — supposed  to  be  kept  for  the  sole 
purpose  of  registering  the  names  of  guests  and  the  time 


33^  A   POLYGLOT   REGISTER. 

of  their  arrival  and  departure — had  become  something 
unique  among  hotel  registers.  Besides  being  a  record, 
more  or  less  accurate,  of  the  arrival  and  departure  of  an 
occasional  traveler  from  foreign  parts — that  is,  from 
parts  as  far  away  as  the  next  county  seat  town,  or  possi 
bly  a  drummer  or  two  from  Kansas  City — it  contained 
the  names  of  all  the  farmers  who  occasionally  dropped 
in  to  dinner,  of  all  the  regular  boarders  written  as  often 
as  it  occurred  to  them  to  do  so,  and  of  all  the  loungers 
about  town  who  made  the  hotel  office  their  headquar 
ters,  and  who,  since  they  never  patronized  the  house  to 
the  extent  of  so  much  as  a  meal  of  victuals,  felt  it  to  be 
a  duty  which  they  owed  to  the  landlord  to  help  him  to 
maintain  an  appearance  of  brisk  business  by  writing 
their  names  among  those  of  the  guests  and  the  regular 
boarders  at  least  once  a  week,  and  as  much  oftener  as 
circumstances  seemed  to  require  it  of  them. 

Some  of  them  did  still  more  to  make  their  presence 
agreeable  to  the  landlord  and  apparent  to  the  traveler 
who  might  chance  to  register  there. 

Besides  their  own  names,  these  occasionally  wrote 
the  name  of  a  chum  or  of  some  business  man  or  other 
citizen  of  the  place,  with  a  prefix  denoting  the  enjoy 
ment  of  civic  or  military  honors.  Others,  apparently 
less  ambitious,  contented  themselves  with  simply  adding 
huge  flourishes  to  their  own  names  or  in  drawing  aimless 
lines  in  ink  or  pencil  across  the  pages.  Still  others  there 


PHIL'S  JOHN  HANCOCK.  337 

were  who,  with  an  eye  to  the  beautiful  in  art,  added  ink 
sketches  of  the  landlord  or  of  any  person  or  any  thing 
that  appeared  to  them  as  a  good  subject  from  which  to 
draw  inspiration. 

Now,  when  Phil  had  this  caricature  of  a  register  laid 
before  him  by  the  good-natured  but  unmethodical  land 
lord,  with  a  request  to  "give  us  your  '  John  Hancock,' 
stranger,  please,"  the  peculiar  appearance  of  the  page 
upon  which  he  was  thus  asked  to  write  his  name  struck 
him  as  requiring  something  more  than  ordinary  in  the 
way  of  a  signature.  Appreciating  this  requirement,  he 
had  written,  with  all  the  flourishes  he  could  command 
and  with  a  superabundance  of  ink  : 

"  Philip  P.  P.   Johnson." 

This  was  the  first  time  he  had  ever  written  his  allit 
erative  signature  to  any  document  as  any  thing  but  plain 
Philip  Johnson.  For  this  reason  the  peculiarity  of  the 
signature  struck  him  as  somewhat  odd,  and  he  stood  with 
the  pen  still  in  his  hand  and  looked  at  it  for  an  instant, 
as  if  to  photograph  upon  his  memory  some  thing  which 
he  regarded  as  a  kind  of  curiosity,  the  like  of  which  he 
never  expected  to  see  again.  Then  he  turned  away  and 
other  matters  engrossed  him. 

But  now  the  landlord  and  his  jolly  guest  were  evi 
dently  looking  at  that  signature  and  discussing  the  coin 
cidence. 

Their  heads  were  close  together  as  they  leaned  over 


338  PHIL'S  JOHN  HANCOCK  CHALLENGED. 

the  counter  from  opposite  sides,  the  landlord  keeping  his 
finger  upon  the  open  page  of  the  register,  at  which  his 
guest  was  looking  intently. 

During  the  inspection  of  the  register  Phil  heard  the 
landlord  say,  in  a  low  tone  :  "That  's  him  over  there." 

Then  the  deeply  interested  farmer  also  put  a  finger 
upon  the  pie-bald  register,  and  appeared  to  be  making  a 
thorough  study  of  it. 

Phil  could  see  the  man's  finger  move  along  by  steps 
or  jumps,  much  as  an  inch  worm  "  measures  "  his  way 
across  one's  path  or  along  a  blade  of  grass.  He  was  evi 
dently  studying  Phil's  chirography,  and  was  moving  his 
finger  from  one  letter  to  another  in  an  effort  to  make 
certain  that  there  was  no  mistake  about  it. 

When  he  had  apparently  satisfied  himself  that  it  was 
what  it  appeared  to  be,  he  turned  to  Phil,  who  was  sit 
ting  on  the  opposite  side  of  the  room,  and  called  out : 

41 1  say,  stranger,  if  it  aint  bein'  too  impertinent, 
would  you  mind  tellin'  me  if  this  is  your  John  Hancock 
that  's  wrote  here  ?" 

"I  reckon  it  is,"  replied  Phil,  good-naturedly. 

"  An1  your  name  's  Johnson,  an'  you  actily  claim  them 
there  three  P's  that  you  've  got  attached  to  your  name  as 
your  'n,  do  you  ?" 

1  '  Yes,  I  reckon  they  honestly  belong  to  me,  though 
I  don't  often  put  'em  to  use,"  Phil  answered. 

"Because,"  continued  the  other,    as  if  he  had  not 


PHIL'S  REJOINDER.  339 

heard  Phil's  reply,  "you  see,  that  's  my  name,  too,  and 
I  thought  I  had  all  the  P's  in  the  Johnson  dish  on  my 
own  plate." 

He  raised  his  hand  and  brought  it  down  on  his  thigh 
with  a  slap,  and  gave  expression  to  his  appreciation  of 
his  own  joke  in  a  loud  guffaw,  while  his  eyes  twinkled 
and  danced  like  those  of  the  Santa  Claus  of  our  child 
hood  days,  and  his  whole  body  shook  with  merriment. 

' '  Well,  maybe  you  did, "  returned  Phil,  willing  to  aid 
the  old  gentleman  enjoy  himself.  "  Maybe  you  did  have 
'em,  and  they  just  warmed  'em  over  for  me." 

The  effect  of  this  sally  was  to  break  the  old  fellow  up 
entirely. 

He  placed  both  hands  upon  his  knees,  shut  his  eyes 
and  mouth  and  bent  himself  nearly  double,  while  his 
whole  person  shook  like  a  man  with  the  ague.  Then 
suddenly  his  mouth  flew  open,  and  a  peal  of  laughter 
that  could  easily  have  been  heard  a  block  away  rolled 
forth  and  shook  the  building.  He  straightened  up  with 
a  jerk  which  gave  a  twist  to  his  voice  and  compelled  his 
laughter  to  end  with  a  kind  of  "  whoop-e-e-e,  ah!" — a 
sort  of  a  cross  between  the  snort  of  a  mad  bull  and  the 
scream  of  a  factory  engine.  And  then  his  body  came 
together  again  like  a  jack-knife,  and  the  operation  was 
repeated. 

"W-h-a-t — what  do  your  P's  stand  for,  young  man?" 
he  asked  as  soon  as  breath  would  permit. 


34O  FRESH    PEAS. 

"  Well,  you  see,"  returned  Phil,  who  was  becoming 
interested  in  the  entertainment  and  anxious  to  have  it 
continued,  "the  fact  is  I  sort  of  inherited  two  of  them. 
They  were,  so  to  speak,  warmed  over  for  me,  in  the  first 
place." 

Here  the  joHy  man  gave  a  snort,  but  held  on  to  him 
self  out  of  a  desire  to  hear  what  Phil  might  have  to  say 
further. 

"  I  was  a  triplet,"  continued  Phil  (another  snort  from 
the  old  gentleman),  "  and  when  the  other  two  died  I  was 
allowed  to  keep  the  names  which  had  been  given  to  all 
three — because,  you  see,  they  did  n't  exactly  know 
which  of  us  had  died  and  which  was  still  living." 

"And  the  names?"  snorted  the  other,  making  effort 
to  hold  himself  down. 

"The  bunch  of  young  Johnsons  were  named  Philip, 
Phineas  and  Philander,"  replied  Phil. 

"Then  they're  mostly  fresh  Peas,"  yelled  the  old 
gentleman.  ''Mine  are  Philip  Peter  Pendegast." 

Away  he  went  again,  doubling  up  like  a  jack-knife, 
shaking  all  over  for  an  instant  and  then  opening  out  with 
a  jerk  and  a  "  whoop-e-e-e,  ah!" 

His  hilarity  attracted  the  attention  of  every  man  in 
that  end  of  the  town,  and  brought  a  dozen  of  the  least 
busy  among  them  around  to  the  hotel  on  purpose  "to 
hear  old  man  Johnson  laugh." 

This  was  not  an  entirely  new  experience  with  them, 


AN    HONOR   TO   THE   NAME.  341 

for  the  old  fellow  was  in  the  habit  of  coming  to  town 
about  once  a  week,  and  whenever  he  was  known  to  be 
in  town  everybody  who  felt  a  necessity  for  having  a  good 
laugh  was  sure  to  gather  about  him. 

The  old  gentleman  often  declared,  with  a  snort : 
"The  blues  and  me  have  never  camped  under  the  same 
blanket." 

When  this  last  ebullition  of  laughter  had  subsided, 
the  old  fellow  came  over  to  where  Phil  sat  and  shook  his 
hand. 

"I  'm  mighty  glad  to  have  seed  you,  young  man,"  he 
said.  "  You  are  an  honor  to  the  name  you  bear,  and  I 
don't  (with  a  snort)  begrudge  you  the  single  warmed-up 
P  of  mine  which  your  parients  gin  you  ;  and,  jnoreover, 
I  reckon  I  have  got  something  of  more  value — consider 
ing  Peas  is  so  plenty  (another  snort)  in  our  family — that 
belongs  to  you.  Now,  if  you  will  go  out  home  with  me, 
or,  if  you  can't  do  that,  if  you  will  wait  until  I  gallop 
out  and  back,  I  '11  turn  it  over  to  you  'thout  sayin'  any 
thing  about  what  you  've  got  of  mine.  Maybe  it  aint 
your  'n,  but  I  reckon  it  is.  It  's  a  letter  which  I  got 
outen  the  post  office  at  Caldwell,  two  or  three  years  ago 
— or,  rather,  one  of  the  boys,  a  young  fellow  what  lives 
with  us,  did — and  I  forgot  all  about  it  till  just  the  other 
day. 

4<  You  see,  we  camped  down  near  there  once — when 
we  first  came  to  the  State — and  we  had  our  mail  come 


342  THE   MISSING   LETTER. 

there.  This  letter  I  'm  telling  you  about  came  there  and 
was  taken  out  by  one  of  my  folks,  as  I  was  saying,  who 
put  it  in  his  coat  pocket,  where  it  slipped  down  through 
the  linin',  where  my  wife  found  it  only  t'other  day,  when 
she  was  a-rippin'  the  thing  up  for  to  make  carpet  rags 
outen. 

"She  s'posed,  in  course,  it  was  mine,  and  having  a 
natural  curiosity  to  know  what  was  inside,  she  tore  the 
thing  open.  But  it  was  n't  for  me  nor  for  any  of  my 
family,  and  I  reckon  it  must  be  for  you. 

"I  hope  the  loss  on  't  haint  caused  you  any  special 
oneasiness." 

"Whether  it  has  or  not,  you  certainly  are  not  to 
blame  in  the  matter,"  replied  Phil. 

"I  have  not  received  many  letters — at  least,  was  not 
receiving  many  at  the  time  you  got  this  out  of  the  post 
office  at  Caldwell — and  it  is  difficult  to  tell  what  effect  it 
might  have  had  upon  me.  But  it  does  not  matter  now. 
I  imagine  it  is  a  letter  from  my  mother,  failing  to  get 
which  I  wandered  off  still  farther,  and  have  never  since 
returned  to  the  old  home  or  seen  any  of  my  own  people 
— not  one." 

"  Are  that  a  fact, "  the  old  man  commented,  rather 
than  asked.  "Wall,  now,  let  me  give  you  a  little  ad 
vice.  We  are  sort  of  relations,  you  know — both  John 
sons,  and  also  we  both  got  part  of  our  P's  from  the  same 
patch." 


THE  OLD   LETTER.  343 

Here  the  old  man's  eyes  twinkled,  and  his  body  gave 
indications  of  the  doubling  up  process. 

"What  I  'm  wantin'  to  say  to  you  is  this :  If  that 
letter  is  your  'n,  an'  was  writ  by  your  mother,  she  's  a 
mighty  good  woman ;  an'  if  you  are  a  good  son  you  '11 
not  waste  any  time  in  goin'  back  an'  givin'  her  another 
look  at  you. 

"  You  see,  wife  and  I  read  the  letter,  'cause  we  could 
not  exactly  understand  how  there  could  be  two  Johnsons 
with  so  many  P's  to  their  names,  and  we  kept  wonderin' 
what  it  could  all  mean — the  finding  of  it  there,  and  all 
that — till  finally  the  boy,  who  is  older  now  and  not  afraid 
of  owning  up  to  any  mistakes  which  he  makes,  told  us 
how  he  remembered  getting  a  letter  out  of  the  post  office 
at  Caldwell  and  losin'  it,  and  then  we  guessed  that  this 
was  that  letter,  and  that  it  was  writ  to  somebody  else. 
So  we  read  it  all  over  again,  tryin'  to  find  out  who  writ 
it  so  as  we  could  send  it  back,  but  it  did  n't  have  no 
name  signed  to  it  'ceptin'  just  '  Mother,'  and  no  place  of 
startin'  'ceptin'  just  'Home,'  but  it  was  full  of  lovin' 
messages,  and  if  it  had  really  been  writ  to  me,  and  she 
that  writ  it  was  my  mother,  I  'd  feel  like  skipping  back 
pretty  lively  for  fear  she  got  tired  of  waitin'  for  me  here, 
and  crossed  over  the  river  to  do  the  rest  o'  the  waitin' 
where  maybe  it  will  be  easier  doin'  of  it." 

"You  see,"  he  added,  in  an  apologetical  kind  of  a 
way,  4  *  you  see,  wife  and  I  have  got  a  boy  out  in  the 


344        PETER  AND  PENDEGAST  DONATED. 

world  somewhere — we  don't  know  where — and  that  sort 
of  enables  me  to  understand  how  your  parients  must 
feel  about  you." 

There  was  moisture  in  Phil's  eyes  when  he  put  out 
his  hand  again  and  heartily  shook  that  of  the  farmer- 
looking  individual. 

When  they  had  shaken  hands,  Phil  spoke  with  more 
than  usual  deliberation  : 

'  *  I  am  going  to  start  for  the  old  home  inside  of  a 
week.  It  shall  not  be  longer.  I  ought  to  have  gone  a 
year  ago.  In  truth,  I  should  never  have  left  my  home 
on  the  Wabash." 

If  there  had  been  no  moisture  in  his  own  eyes,  Phil 
might  have  seen  something  suspiciously  like  it  in  those 
of  the  reminiscent  old  farmer,  as  he  took  his  proffered 
hand. 

"That  's  right,  young  man — that  's  right.  Go  back 
to  the  old  folks  and  let  'em  set  eyes  on  ye  once  more. 
They  won't  be  ashamed  of  your  looks — could  n't  be,  if 
you  looked  a  heap  wuss  than  you  do." 

Here  the  moisture  left  the  old  man's  eyes,  and  they 
began  to  twinkle  again. 

4 'Young  man,  take  your  parients  my  best  compli 
ments,  and  tell  'em  if  they  want  to  use  any  more  of  my 
P's  they  're  welcome.  Bein'  they  've  got  Philip,  they  can 
have  both  Peter  and  Pendegast  if  they  can  find  ekally 
good  use  for  'em, " 


MOTHER'S  MISLAID  MESSAGE.  345 

And  again  he  started  off  with  a  snort  and  ended  up 
with  a  whistle. 


#     * 


After  eating  dinner  together,  Phil  rode  out  home  with 
his  new  acquaintance. 

There  he  was  handed  the  letter  written  to  him  by  his 
mother  four  years  before,  and  for  the  first  time  read  the 
loving  message  which  it  contained. 


CHAPTER   XXIII. 


BACK   TO   THE    LITTLE    OLD   TOWN    ON    THE    WABASH — THE 
WEDDING    BELLS    RESOUND. 

A  week  later  Phil  made  his  report  at  headquarters, 
and  then  took  the  next  train  for  his  old  home  in  the  State 
of  Indiana. 

It  all  seemed  to  him  as  if  he  were  in  a  dream,  as  ne 
went  bowling  along  across  the  prairies  and  by  the  banks 
of  the  rivers  and  through  the  woodlands — seemed  as  if 
his  whole  life  had  been  a  dream,  and  as  if  he  were  not 
yet  fully  awakened. 

Possibly  it  was  a  dream,  and  he  had  not  awakened, 
but  was  still  dreaming.  Perchance  that  is  true  which 
is  taught  by  the  occultists,  and  which  they  claim  to  have 
proven,  that  the  real  is  the  spiritual  and  that  which  we 
regard  as  the  real  is  but  a  dream — an  illusion  of  the 
senses  from  which  we  shall  awaken  some  time,  to  know 
the  truth  and  to  live.  it. 


KIND  OF  BROWN.  S4f 

Now,  if  it  was  a  dream — this  reverie  <?f  Phil's — it 
was  twice  dreamed.  For  as  he  rode  along  he  went  back 
in  his  thoughts  over  his  whole  life.  He  saw  again  each 
incident  which  had  occurred  since  his  earliest  memory — 
his  boyhood  days,  the  happy  days  spent  with  Nettie  on 
the  ferry,  the  weeding  of  the  truck  patch,  the  hunting 
for  hogs  in  the  river  bottom,  the  little  incidents  or  acci 
dents  that  brought  him  joy  or  sorrow,  the  running  away 
and  the  life  upon  the  plains,  the  herding  and  the  stam 
pede,  the  circle  of  cow  boys  about  a  hundred  camp  fires, 
the  range  and  the  stockade  and  the  herd  at  the  foot  of 
the  Guadalupe  Mountains,  the  attack  of  the  Apaches 
and — Brown. 

His  dream  changed  a  little  at  the  thought  of  Brown, 
and  he  changed  the  position  of  his  body  to  correspond 
with  it. 

"  I  wonder  how  Brown  is  and  how  he  is  getting  on? 
Too  bad  I  did  not  answer  his  last  letter,"  he  told  him 
self.  ' (  Reckon  he  's  all  right,  though  ;  said  he  'd  got  a 
boy,  and  his  name  was  Phil.  Kind  of  Brown  to  remem 
ber  his  old  pard  in  that  way.  But,  then,  Sam  never  was 
a  man  to  forget  his  friends.  He  shall  not  get  far  ahead 
of  me  in  that  way,  though.  I  '11  ask  Nettie  to  name  our 
first " 

Again  the  current  of  his  dream  changed,  and  away 
he  went  on  a  new  trail. 

Arrived  at  his  destination,   he  got  oft  the  cars  at  a 


348  THE   LITTLE   OLD   TOWN. 

station  five  miles  from  the  little  town  on  the  Wabash, 
and  walked  out. 

He  had  not  written  to  let  the  folks  know  at  just  what 
time  to  expect  him,  and  consequently  no  one  was  there 
to  meet  him.  He  preferred  walking  to  being  taken  out 
by  a  strange/. 

Phil  wanted  to  see  the  old  town  for  the  first  time 
with  no  one  by  to  break  in  upon  his  thoughts  with  idle 
talk,  and  he  wanted  to  come  upon  the  folks  unawares, 
so  that  he  might  enjoy  their  surprise,  as  well  as  see  if  his 
parents  and  others  who  had  not  seen  him  since  he  was  a 
boy  would  recognize  him. 

The  country  about  the  railroad  station  where  he  left 
the  train  was  changed,  of  course.  He  expected  to  find 
changes  there. 

Railroads  bring  business  ;  they  push  and  hurry  peo 
ple  ;  they  whistle  and  roar  and  scream  at  folks  ;  they 
compel  them  to  be  up  and  doing.  One  can  not  sleep  in 
front  of  a  railroad  train  nor  fish  from  the  rear  platform. 

If  a  railroad  had  been  built  through  the  little  old 
town  on  the  Wabash  to  which  he  was  going,  even  it 
would  have  been  compelled  to  wake  up,,  and  its  inhabit 
ants  to  cease  to  sit  in  the  sun  and  fish. 

Phil  realized  this,  and  he  was  not  surprised  to  find 
the  country  about  the  railroad  station  so  changed  that 
he  scarcely  knew  where  he  was. 

As  he  drew  away  from  it  things  began  to  look  more 


SCME   CHANGES.  349 

familiar — enough  so  that  he  could  at  least  tell  exactly 
what  and  where  the  changes  were. 

That  is  the  same  log  house  that  was  there  when  he 
went  away,  but  the  barn  has  been  built  since,  and  the 
orchard  has  grown — that  is,  the  trees  have. 

They  were  only  just  coming  into  bearing  when  he 
left.  He  remembered  that  because,  he  had  once  been 
tempted  to  hook  a  few  apples  from  one  of  the  trees  at 
the  lower  end  of  the  orchard,  and  had  been  deterred  by 
the  fear  that  he  might  be  seen  from  the  house,  the  trees 
being  so  small  as  not  to  screen  one  from  observation, 
while  now  the  house  could  not  be  seen  at  all  from  where 
he  stood. 

Over  there,  a  little  farther  on,  somebody  had  cut  a 
field  out  of  the  river  bottom.  That  must  have  been 
recently,  last  year  or  the  year  before  ;  the  stumps  yet 
had  the  bark  on  them,  and  the  ground  had  never  been 
broken  with  a  mould  board,  but  just  harrowed  over 
probably,  and  seeded  down  for  pasture.  Some  of  the 
logs  lay  yet  where  they  fell,  or  where  ineffectual  efforts 
had  been  made  to  consume  them  in  heaps  by  fire. 

It  was  almost  sundown  when  he  came  in  sight  of  the 
old  home  and  the  little  town  itself.  He  did  not  have  to 
cross  the  river  to  reach  it.  He  almost  wished  he  did, 
and  by  the  ferry,  and  he  wondered  whether,  if  he  had 
had  to  do  so,  Nettie  would  have  been  there  to  ferry  him 
across.  She  was  here  now,  and  living  with  her  father's 


350  IS   IT   MY   BOY? 

family  in  the  little  old  cabin,  just  as  they  used  to  when 
he  and  she  were  children.  There  was  a  frame  addition 
to  it  now. 

As  he  approached  the  old  home,  his  father's  house, 
he  began  to  wonder  whether  his  mother  would  not  be 
standing  in  the  doorway,  looking  out  for  him,  just  as  he 
had  found  her  doing  many  a  time  when  he  had  been  late 
!n  getting  in  from  the  river  bottom,  or  from  an  errand  to 
a  farmer's  somewhere  ;  and  as  he  came  nearer  still,  he 
looked  again,  half  expecting  she  would  be  there  in  the 
door. 

And  was  it  really  true — this  seeming  ?  Was  that  she, 
his  mother  ?  Was  she  really  looking  out,  and  had  she 
been  watching  for  him  thus  all  these  years  ? 

Yes,  it  was  she,  his  mother — older  and  grayer,  but 
looking  a  good  deal  as  she  had  done  when  he  saw  her 
last.  She  has  shaded  her  eyes  with  her  hand  now,  just 
as  he  had  seen  her  do  many  times  before  at  his  approach, 
striving  thus  to  see  a  little  more  clearly,  that  she  might 
know  whether  he  who  approached  was  her  long-absent 
Philip. 

"Is  it  Philip  ?     Is  it  my  boy  ?" 

The  tones  were  trembling,  eager,  expectant.  So  Phil 
made  haste  to  relieve  her  suspense. 

' '  Yes,  mother,  it  is  your  boy — come  back  to  ask  for 
giveness  for  having  gone  away. " 

And  in  another  instant  she  had  her  arms  about  her 


THE   OLD    HOME.  351 

son's  neck,  and  each  was  weeping  upon  the  other's  shoul 
der  tears  of  joy. 


' '  Nettie  is  well,  and  so  are  all  the  rest  of  Mr.  Mc- 
Kinley's  folks,"  said  Phil's  mother. 

The  first  greetings  between  Phil  and  the  other  mem 
bers  of  his  father's  family  were  over,  and  Phil  was  seated 
in  front  of  the  old  familiar  brick  fire-place,  for  which  he 
used  to  cut  wood  when  he  was  a  boy.  A  little  fire  was 
smoldering  in  the  great  wide  space  between  the  two 
jams ;  for,  although  it  was  Spring  again,  and  the  grass 
was  green  and  the  flowers  were  in  bloom  outside,  it  was 
cool  indoors,  especially  as  evening  approached.  So  just 
a  little  fire  was  allowed  to  smolder  away  among  the  ashes 
all  the  day  through. 

Phil  looked  down  at  the  chair  on  which  he  sat  to  see 
if  it  was  one  of  the  same  old  splint-bottom  affairs,  with 
straight  back,  which  he  remembered  as  a  part  of  the  old 
household  riches.  But  it  was  not.  There  might  possi 
bly  be  one  or  two  yet  about  the  kitchen,  or  in  the  bed 
chamber  above,  with  the  ladder  leading  to  it ;  but  there 
was  not  one  in  sight — a  fact  which  Phil  regretted. 

Every  thing  else  was  just  the  same  as  he  remembered 


352 

it  before  he  went  away.  The  same  bed,  with  its  woolen 
counterpane,  in  which  there  were  woven  in  varied  colors 
all  sorts  of  improbable  birds  and  beasts  and  vegetable 
growths,  stood  in  the  corner  just  as  it  did,  and  it  had 
about  it,  and  concealing  the  floor  beneath  it,  the  same, 
or  what  looked  like  the  same,  calico  short  curtains  or 
11  va(ances." 

The  same  old  clock  stood  upon  the  mantel,  and 
swung  its  pendulum  back  and  forth  and  ticked  away  in 
exactly  the  same  tone  of  voice  that  it  had  when  he  first 
remembered  it.  Nothing  was  changed  in  the  least  that 
he  could  see — nothing  but  the  chairs. 

"  Nettie  will  be  over  pretty  soon,  I  reckon.  She 
comes  over  pretty  nearly  every  evening  to  know  if  we 
have  heard  from  you,"  continued  Phil's  mother,  not  for 
getting  in  her  own  joy  at  the  return  of  the  prodigal  that 
he  must  be  eager  to  see  his  sweetheart. 

Oh,  these  mothers  !  Always  looking  and  longing  for 
the  presence  of  your  children  ;  bound  up  in  them  ;  ever 
anxious  for  them  ;  willing  even  to  surrender  your  own 
happiness,  that  theirs  may  be  increased ! 

Who,  among  us  all,  has  ever  appreciated  the  beauty 
and  goodness  of  a  mother's  love  ? 

Nettie  came  a  few  minutes  later  by  the  back  way, 
and  into  the  kitchen. 

They  heard  a  little  "tat-tat,"  at  the  kitchen  door, 
and  then  the  latch  was  lifted  and  Nettie  entered  without 


REUNITED.  353 

waiting  to  be  bidden.  She  came  so  often,  and  was  so 
soon  to  be  a  daughter  to  Mrs.  Johnson,  that  she  was 
looked  upon  as  one  of  the  family. 

Mrs.  Johnson  had  always  liked  Nettie,  and  after  Phil 
went  away,  and  during  the  years  in  which  they  heard 
nothing  of  him,  she  and  Nettie  had  consoled  each  other 
oftentimes. 

Without  asking  or  being  told  in  words,  Phil's  mother 
knew  that  this  girl  loved  her  boy,  and  for  that  alone  she 
was  ready  to  love  her  in  return,  though  in  truth  she  did 
love  her  for  herself,  and  grew  to  love  her  more  with  the 
passing  years. 

"Come  in  here,  Nettie,"  called  Mrs.  Johnson  from 
the  room  where  they  all  were,  at  the  same  time  starting 
toward  the  kitchen  and  dragging  Phil's  father  along  with 
her. 

Meeting  her  at  the  door,  she  pushed  Nettie  in  and 
her  husband  out,  following  him  herself  after  waiting  only 
long  enough  to  hear  the  girl's  little  scream  of  surprise 
and  joy  as  she  saw  who  was  there  and  to  see  Phil  ris* 
from  his  chair  and  stretch  out  his  arms  to  enfold  her. 

Then  she  went  to  work  getting  supper.  And  such  a 
supper  as  she  got ! 

From  somewhere  about  the  kitchen,  or  from  the  cup 
board  in  the  sitting  room,  or  from  the  out-door  cellar, 
there  came  forth  stores  of  preserves  and  canned  fruits 
and  jams  and  other  good  things  in  such  profusion  as  only 


354  HAPPY   WITH   THEIR   CHILDREN. 

housewives  like  Mrs.  Johnson  know  how  to  make,  and 
as  only  such  set  forth  with  equal  lavishness  when  they 
would  get  a  meal  for  those  whom  they  love  or  desire  to 
honor. 

He  who  has  never  sat  as  the  honored  guest  at  such  * 
table  has  missed  one  of  the  best  things  of  life,  and  can 
know  but  little  about  genuine  hospitality. 

Nettie  came  from  the  sitting  room  after  a  time,  and 
helped  about  the  supper. 

Her  face  was  a  little  more  rosy  and  her  eyes  brightet 
than  usual,  no  doubt,  but  Phil's  mother  did  not  seem  ta 
notice  it.  Her  own  step  was  lighter,  and  there  was  a 
glow  in  her  own  eyes  that  had  not  been  there  before  for 
years  ;  and  if  there  was  in  Nettie's  also,  it  was  nothing 
she  need  to  appear  to  know  of  or  to  question. 

After  supper  Mr.  Johnson  went  over  to  Mr.  McKin- 
ley's  house  and  brought  the  whole  family  back  with  him, 
for  he  knew  they  would  be  uneasy  about  Nettie  if  she  did 
not  return  soon,  and  anxious  to  see  Phil  if  they  knew  he 
had  arrived,  and  for  that  first  evening  they  could  not  let 
Phil  go  from  beneath  their  own  roof — at  least,  his  fond 
mother  could  not.  And  so  the  McKinleys  all  came  over 
to  the  Johnsons. 

The  McKinleys  were  not  all  actually  brought  over  by 
Mr.  Johnson — not  the  younger  ones.  They  broke  across 
lots  on  the  run  as  soon  as  they  learned  of  Phil's  arrival, 
and  Mrs.  McKinley  only  waited  to  throw  a  shawl  over 


MR.  M'KINLEY  EXTENDS  WELCOME.  355 

her  head  before  she  followed  after,  leaving  her  husband 
to  return  with  Phil's  father  in  a  more  dignified,  though 
somewhat  hurried,  manner. 

The  greeting  between  Phil  and  the  younger  members 
of  the  McKinley  family  was  a  bit  boisterous. 

They  regarded  him  as  a  brother,  an  older  brother — 
but  as  one  with  whom  there  was  no  necessity  for  any 
reserve — and  they  exhibited  none  in  their  expressions  of 
joy  at  meeting  again.  Even  Mrs.  McKinley  kissed  him, 
and  turned  away  to  wipe  a  few  tears  from  her  eyes  with 
the  corner  of  her  gingham  apron. 

Phil  was  a  son  to  her  already,  and  one  in  whom  she 
had  learned  to  repose  the  greatest  confidence  and  for 
whom  she  had  the  deepest  affection. 

Then  came  Mr.  McKinley. 

He  entered  the  house  with  Phil's  father,  and  as  those 
already  there  and  gathered  about  Phil  gave  way  for  him 
the  two  men  clasped  hands,  and  shook  long  and  with 
honest  warmth. 

Then  Mr.  McKinley  spoke : 

"  I  welcome  you  back  to  your  native  town,  Philip, 
and  I  have  already  told  your  parents  and  all  who  have 
inquired  about  you  that  you  are  an  honor  to  the  place  of 
your  birth ;  yes,  Sir,  an  honor  to  the  place  of  your 
birth." 

And  then,  as  a  memory  of  the  scenes  and  incidents 
through  which  they  had  both  passed  and  the  kindness 


356  WE  'LL  BEAT  'EM  YET. 

and  respect  with  which  Phil  had  invariably  treated  him 
flashed  upon  his  mind,  he  hastily  passed  the  back  of  his 
hand  across  his  eyes,  and  exclaimed  : 

"  We  '11  beat  'em  yet,  Philip.  We  '11  beat  'em  yet, 
and  we  '11  all  go  back  to  the  Canadian  River  together.  A 
bill  to  make  Oklahoma  a  Territory  was  introduced  in 
Congress  today." 


Two  weeks  later  the  residents  of  the  little  town  on 
the  Wabash  were  all  gathered  together  at  the  McKinley 
residence,  on  the  bank  of  the  river  near  the  ferry,  to  see 
Phil  and  Nettie  married. 

By  all  the  "  residents"  is  meant  only  the  citizens  who 
are  classed  as  belonging  to  the  genus  homo. 

The  other  citizens,  free  and  independent  though  they 
were,  had  not  been  included  in  the  invitation,  and  for 
this  reason  they  continued  their  usual  vocations,  as  on 
other  days. 

The  hogs  rooted  at  will  in  the  streets  or  else  went  on 


NOW   MR.    AND   MRS.  357 

excursions  to  the  river  bottoms  in  search  for  the  roots  of 
the  wild  pea,  the  same  as  they  had  done  all  these  years 
since  the  little  town  first  squatted  there  ;  and  the  dogs 
lay  in  the  shade  and  contended  with  their  enemies,  the 
fleas — just  as  they  will  do  to  the  end  of  this  chapter, 
which  is  the  end  of  the  story. 

The  old  ferry  boat  lay  fastened  to  its  moorings,  with 
the  same  long  line  of  canoes  stretched  out  behind  it  that 
were  there  when  Nettie  and  Phil  used  to  run  it  years  ago, 
for  it  was  still  a  convenience  to  a  few  people.  Though 
now  no  one  tended  it  regularly,  yet  any  one  who  chose 
to  used  it,  and  to  those  living  close  by  it  was  worth  the 
little  repairs  which  it  occasionally  needed,  as  the  mend 
ing  of  a  broken  plank  or  the  replacing  of  a  rope. 

But  now  it  was  arched  over  with  branches  of  trees 
and  decked  out  with  flowers  and  a  flag — the  flag  of  our 
country,  the  Stars  and  Stripes — which  floated  from  a 
pole  erected  at  what  was  the  bow,  as  the  old  craft  lay  at 
its  moorings. 

After  the  ceremony  and  after  everybody  had  kissed 
the  bride,  wished  joy  to  the  groom  and  eaten  of  the  wed 
ding  feast  until  filled,  Phil  and  Nettie — that  is  to  say, 
Mr.  and  Mrs.  Philip  Phineas  Philander  Johnson — were 
escorted  down  to  the  landing  and  aboard  the  boat.  As 
many  of  the  company  as  could  crowd  on  board  with  the 
bridal  couple  did  so.  The  chain  was  then  loosened,  and 
they  swung  away  across  the  stream. 


3  £8  SUCH  AS  WILL. 

Not  once  only,  but  a  score  of  times,  did  they  make 
the  passage.  Now  Nettie  held  the  tiller  and  now  Phil, 
and  now  some  one  else  among  the  gay  crowd.  When 
the  dark  of  evening  came  they  were  yet  at  it,  and  for  an 
hour  later  still  the  sound  of  laughter  and  singing  came 
floating  up  from  the  landing. 

At  last,  grown  weary  of  the  swinging  back  and  forth 
across  the  river,  the  crowd  was  mustered  into  line  to 
escort  the  bride  and  groom  in  becoming  style  to  the  resi 
dence  of  Johnson  pere.  This  riding  back  and  forth  on 
the  ferry  boat  was  all  there  was  to  be  of  their  wedding 
journey. 

Neither  of  the  high  contracting  parties  desired  more. 

'  *  When  Oklahoma  is  declared  open  by  act  of  Con 
gress,"  they  said,  ' '  then  we  will  make  a  longer  wedding 
journey,  across  hill  and  vale  and  river  and  mountain,  to 
our  claim  and  our  home  in  that  fair  country  ;  and  such 
of  our  friends  as  will  may  go  with  us." 


THE  PLAINS. 


CHAPTER  I. 

FROM   THE   MISSOURI    RIVER   TO  THE    ROCKY   MOUNTAINS — 
THE    TREES — THE    HERBAGE — THE    BUFFALO — INDIAN 

WARRIOR    AND    HIS    PONY THE    INSECTS THE  MIRAGE 

— WATER — THE   WICHITA     MOUNTAINS — THE     INDIANS. 

It  is  but  a  few  years  ago  that  every  school  boy,  who 
was  supposed  to  possess  the  rudiments  of  a  knowledge 
of  the  geography  of  the  United  States,  could  give  the 
boundaries  and  a  general  description  of  the  ' '  Great 
American  Desert." 

As  to  the  boundaries,  the  knowledge  seemed  to  be 
quite  explicit :  On  the  north,  bounded  by  the  Upper 
Missouri,  on  the  east  by  the  Lower  Missouri  and  Missis 
sippi,  on  the  south  by  Texas,  and  on  the  west  by  the 
Rocky  Mountains. 

The  bounUaries  on  the  northwest  and  south  remained 


360  THE   PLAINS. 

undisturbed,  while  on  the  east  civilization,  propelled  and 
directed  by  Yankee  enterprise,  adopted  the  motto  : 

< <  Westward  the  Star  of  Empire  Takes  Its  Way." 

Countless  throngs  of  emigrants  crossed  the  Missis 
sippi  and  Missouri  rivers,  selecting  homes  in  the  rich  and 
fertile  territories  lying  beyond.  Each  year  this  tide  of 
emigration,  strengthened  and  increased  by  the  constant 
flow  from  foreign  shores,  advanced  toward  the  setting 
sun,  slowly  but  surely  narrowing  the  preconceived  limits 
of  the  "  Great  American  Desert,"  and  correspondingly 
enlarging  the  limits  of  civilization. 

At  last  the  geographical  myth  was  dispelled.  It  was 
gradually  discerned  that  the  "  Great  American  Desert" 
did  not  exist ;  that  it  had  no  abiding  place,  but  that 
within  its  supposed  limits,  and  instead  of  what  had  been 
regarded  as  a  sterile  and  unfruitful  tract  of  land,  incapa 
ble  of  sustaining  either  man  or  beast,  there  existed  the 
fairest  and  richest  portion  of  the  National  domain — 
blessed  with  a  climate  pure,  bracing  and  healthful,  while 
its  undeveloped  soil  rivaled,  if  it  did  not  surpass,  the 
most  productive  portions  of  the  Eastern,  Middle  and 
Southern  States. 

Discarding  the  name  "  Great  American  Desert,"  this 
immense  tract  of  country,  with  its  eastern  boundary 
moved  back  by  civilization  to  a  distance  of  nearly  three 
hundred  miles  west  of  the  Missouri  River,  is  now  known 
as  '  *  The  Plains. "  The  Indian  tribes  which  have  caused 


AS  THE   EYE  SEES,  361 

the  government  most  anxiety  and  whose  depredations 
have  been  most  serious  against  our  frontier  settlements 
and  prominent  lines  of  travel  across  The  Plains  infest 
that  portion  of  The  Plains  bounded  on  the  north  by  the 
Valley  of  the  Platte  River  and  its  tributaries,  on  the 
east  by  a  line  running  north  and  south  between  the  9/th 
and  98th  meridians,  on  the  south  by  the  Valley  of  the 
Arkansas  River  and  west  by  the  Rocky  Mountains. 

Of  the  many  persons  whom  I  have  met  on  The 
Plains,  as  transient  visitors  from  the  States  or  from  dif 
ferent  parts  of  Europe,  there  were  but  few  who  have  not 
expressed  surprise  that  their  original  ideas  concerning 
the  appearance  and  characteristics  of  the  country  were 
so  far  from  correct,  or  that  The  Plains  in  imagination, 
as  described  in  books,  tourists'  letters  and  reports  from 
various  scientific  parties,  differed  so  widely  from  The 
Plains  as  they  actually  exist  and  appear  to  the  eye. 

Travelers,  writers  of  fiction  and  journalists  have 
spoken  and  written  a  great  deal  concerning  this  immense 
territory,  so  unlike  in  all  its  qualities  and  characteristics 
to  the  settled  and  cultivated  portions  of  the  United 
States  ;  but  to  a  person  familiar  with  the  country  the 
conclusion  is  forced,  upon  reading  these  published  de 
scriptions,  either  that  the  writers  never  visited  more  than 
a  limited  portion  of  the  country  which  they  aim  to  pict 
ure  or — as  is  most  commonly  the  case  at  the  present  day 
-»-that  the  journey  was  made  in  a  stage  coach  or  railway 


362  SOME   PECULIARITIES. 

car,  half  of  the  distance  traveled  in  the  night  time  and 
but  occasional  glimpses  taken  during  the  day.  A  journey 
by  rail  across  The  Plains  is  at  best  but  ill-adapted  to  a 
thorough  and  satisfactory  examination  of  the  general 
character  of  the  country,  for  the  reason  that  in  selecting 
the  routes  for  railroads  the  valley  of  some  stream  is,  if 
practicable,  usually  chosen  to  contain  the  road  bed.  The 
valley  being  considerably  lower  than  the  adjacent  coun 
try,  the  view  of  the  tourist  is  correspondingly  limited. 

Moreover,  the  vastness  and  varied  character  of  this 
immense  tract  could  not  fairly  be  determined  or  judged 
by  a  flying  trip  across  one  portion  of  it.  One  would 
scarcely  expect  an  accurate  opinion  to  be  formed  of  the 
swamps  of  Florida  from  a  railroad  journey  from  New 
York  to  Niagara. 

After  indulging  in  criticisms  on  the  written  descrip 
tions  of  The  Plains,  I  might  reasonably  be  expected  to 
enter  into  what  I  conceive  a  correct  description,  but  I 
forbear.  Beyond  a  general  outline  embracing  some  of 
the  peculiarities  of  this  slightly  known  portion  of  our 
country,  the  limit  and  character  of  these  sketches  of 
Western  life  will  not  permit  me  to  go. 

The  idea  entertained  by  the  greater  number  of  people 
regarding  the  appearance  of  The  Plains,  while  incorrect 
so  far  as  the  latter  are  concerned,  is  quite  accurate  and 
truthful  if  applied  to  the  prairies  of  the  Western  States. 
It  is  probable,  too,  that  romance  writers,  and  even  tour- 


MISSOURI    RIVER   TO    ROCKY   MOUNTAINS.  363 

ists  at  an  earlier  day,  mistook  the  prairies  for  plains,  and 
in  describing  the  one  imagined  they  were  describing  the 
other.  But  the  two  have  little  in  common  to  the  eye  of 
the  beholder,  save  the  general  absence  of  trees. 

From  the  Missouri  River  to  the  Rockies. 

In  proceeding  from  the  Missouri  River  to  the  base  of 
the  Rocky  Mountains  the  ascent,  although  gradual,  is 
quite  rapid.  For  example,  at  Fort  Riley,  Kansas,  the 
bed  of  Kansas  River  is  upward  of  l,ooo  feet  above  the 
level  of  the  sea,  while  Fort  Hays,  at  a  distance  of  nearly 
150  miles  farther  west,  is  about  1,  500  feet  above  the  sea 
level. 

Starting  from  almost  any  point  near  the  central  por 
tion  of  The  Plains,  and  moving  in  any  direction,  one 
seems  to  encounter  a  series  of  undulations  at  a  more  or 
less  remote  distance  from  each  other,  but  constantly  in 
view. 

Comparing  the  surface  of  the  country  to  that  of  the 
ocean,  a  comparison  often  indulged  in  by  those  who  have 
seen  both,  it  does  not  require  a  very  great  stretch  of  the 
imagination,  when  viewing  this  expansive  ocean  of  beau 
tiful  living  verdure,  to  picture  these  successive  undula 
tions  as  gigantic  waves,  not  wildly  chasing  each  other  to 
or  from  the  shore,  but  standing  silent  and  immovable, 
and  by  their  silent  immobility  adding  to  the  impressive 
grandeur  of  the  scene. 


364  LAND  WAVES. 

These  undulations,  varying  in  height  from  50  to  $00 
feet,  are  sometimes  formed  of  a  light  sandy  soil,  but  are 
often  composed  of  different  varieties  of  rock,  producing 
at  a  distance  the  most  picturesque  effect. 

The  constant  recurrence  of  these  waves,  if  they  may 
be  so  termed,  is  most  puzzling  to  the  inexperienced 
plainsman.  He  imagines — and  very  naturally,  too,  he 
judging  from  appearances — that  when  he  ascends  to  the 
crest  he  can  overlook  all  the  surrounding  country.  After 
a  weary  walk  or  ride  of  perhaps  several  miles,  which 
appeared  at  starting  not  more  than  one  or  two,  he  finds 
himself  at  the  desired  point,  but  discovers  that  directly 
beyond,  in  the  direction  he  desires  to  go,  rises  a  second 
wave,  but  slightly  higher  than  the  first,  and  from  the 
crest  of  which  he  must  certainly  be  able  to  scan  the 
country  as  far  as  the  eye  can  reach. 

Thither  he  pursues  his  course,  and  after  a  ride  of  five 
to  ten  miles,  although  the  distance  did  not  seem  half  so 
great  before  starting,  he  finds  himself  on  the  crest — or, 
as  it  is  invariably  termed,  the  ' '  divide  " — but  again  only 
to  discover  that  another  and  apparently  a  higher  divide 
rises  in  his  front,  and  at  about  the  same  distance  as  the 
preceding  one. 

Hundreds  of  miles — yes,  even  thousands  of  them — 
may  be  journeyed  over,  and  this  same  effect  will  be  wit 
nessed  every  few  hours.  The  traveler  who  would  avoid 
this  optical  illusion  must  post  himself  before  starting, 


THE  TREES. 


The  Trees  and  Grasses— "  Long  Forage." 

As  you  proceed  toward  the  West  from  the  Missouri 
the  size  of  the  trees  diminishes,  as  well  as  the  number 
of  kinds. 

As  you  penetrate  the  borders  of  the  Indian  country, 
leaving  civilization  behind  you,  the  sight  of  forests  is  no 
longer  enjoyed.  The  only  trees  to  be  seen  are  scattered 
along  the  banks  of  the  streams,  these  becoming  smaller 
and  sparser,  finally  disappearing  altogether  and  giving 
place  to  a  few  scattering  willows  and  osiers. 

The  greater  portion  of  The  Plains  may  be  said  to  be 
without  timber  of  any  kind. 

As  to  the  cause  of  this  absence  scientific  men  dis 
agree,  some  claiming  that  the  high  winds  which  prevail 
in  unobstructed  force  prevent  the  growth  and  existence 
of  trees  and  also  the  taller  grasses.  This  theory  is  well 
supported  by  facts,  as,  unlike  the  Western  prairies, 
where  the  grass  often  attains  a  height  sufficient  to  con 
ceal  a  man  on  horseback,  The  Plains  are  covered  by  a 
grass  which  rarely,  and  only  under  favorable  circum 
stances,  exceeds  three  inches  in  height. 

Another  theory,  also  somewhat  plausible,  is  that  the 
entire  region  called  The  Plains  were  at  one  time  covered 
with  timber  more  or  less  dense,  but  this  timber,  owing 


366  COTTONWOOD   FORAGE. 

to  various  causes,  was  destroyed,  and  has  since  been  pre 
vented  from  growing  and  spreading  over  that  area  by  the 
annual  fires  which  the  Indians  regularly  create,  and 
which  sweep  over  the  entire  region.  These  fires  are 
built  by  the  Indians  during  the  Autumn  to  burn  the  dried 
grass  and  hasten  the  growth  of  the  pasturage  in  the  early 
Spring. 

Favoring  the  theory  that  The  Plains  were  at  one  time 
covered  with  forests  is  the  fact  that  entire  trunks  of  large 
trees  have  been  found  in  a  state  of  petrifaction  on  ele 
vated  portions  of  the  country,  and  far  removed  from  all 
streams  of  water. 

While  dwarfed  specimens  of  almost  all  varieties  of 
trees  are  found  fringing  the  banks  of  some  of  the 
streams,  the  prevailing  species  are  cottonwood  and  pop 
lar  trees  (populus  monilifera  and  populus  angulosa). 
Intermingled  with  these  are  found  clumps  of  osiers 
(salix  longifolia). 

In  almost  any  other  portion  of  the  country  the  cot 
tonwood  would  be  the  least  desirable  of  trees.  But  to 
the  Indians  and  also  to  United  States  troops,  in  many 
instances  which  have  fallen  under  my  observation,  the 
eottonwood  has  performed  a  service  for  which  no  other 
tree  has  been  found  its  equal.  That  is  as  forage  for  the 
horses  and  mules  during  the  Winter  season,  when  the 
snow  prevents  even  dried  grass  from  being  obtainable. 
During  the  Winter  campaign  of  1868-9  against  the  hos« 


THE   HERBAGE.  367 

tile  tribes  south  of  the  Arkansas,  it  not  unfrequently 
happened  that  my  command,  while  in  pursuit  of  Indians, 
exhausted  its  supply  of  forage,  and  the  horses  and  mules 
were  subsisted  upon  the  young  bark  of  the  cottonwood 
tree.  In  routing  the  Indians  from  their  Winter  villages, 
we  invariably  discovered  them  located  upon  that  point 
of  the  stream  promising  the  greatest  supply  of  cotton- 
wood  bark,  while  the  stream  in  the  vicinity  of  the  village 
was  completely  shorn  of  its  supply  of  timber,  and  the 
village  itself  was  strewn  with  the  white  branches  of  the 
cottonwood,  entirely  stripped  of  their  bark. 

It  was  somewhat  amusing  to  observe  an  Indian  pony 
feeding  on  cottonwood  bark.  The  limb  being  usually 
cut  into  pieces  about  four  feet  in  length  and  thrown  upon 
the  ground,  the  pony,  accustomed  to  this  kind  of  "long 
forage,"  would  place  one  fore  foot  on  the  limb  in  the 
same  manner  as  a  dog  secures  a  bone,  and  gnaw  the 
bark  from  it. 

Although  not  affording  anything  like  the  amount  of 
nutriment  which  either  hay  or  grain  does,  yet  our  horses 
invariably  preferred  the  bark  to  either — probably  because 
of  its  freshness. 

The   Herbagec 

The  herbage  to  be  found  on  the  principal  portion  of 
The  Plains  is  usually  sparse  and  stunted  in  its  growth. 
Along  the  banks  of  the  streams  and  in  the  bottom  lands 


368  BUFFALO  GRASS. 

grows,  generally  in  rich  abundance,  a  species  of  grass 
often  found  in  the  States  east  of  the  Mississippi,  but  on 
the  uplands  is  produced  what  is  there  known  as  '  *  buffalo 
grass. "  This  is  indigenous  and  peculiar  in  its  character, 
differing  in  form  and  substance  from  all  other  grasses. 
The  blade,  under  favorable  circumstances,  reaches  a 
growth  usually  of  three  to  five  inches,  but  instead  of 
being  straight,  or  approximately  so,  it  assumes  a  curled 
or  waving  shape,  the  grass  itself  becoming  densely  mat 
ted  and  giving  to  the  foot,  when  walking  upon  it,  a  sen 
sation  similar  to  that  produced  by  stepping  upon  moss  or 
the  most  costly  of  velvet  carpets. 

Nearly  all  graminivorous  animals  inhabiting  The 
Plains,  except  the  elk  and  some  species  of  the  deer,  pre 
fer  the  buffalo  grass  to  that  of  the  lowland,  and  it  is 
probable  that  even  these  exceptions  would  not  prove 
good  if  it  were  not  for  the  timber  on  the  bottom  land, 
which  affords  good  cover  to  both  the  elk  and  the  deer. 
Both  are  often  found  in  large  herds  grazing  upon  the  up 
lands,  although  the  grass  is  far  more  luxuriant  and  plen 
tiful  on  the  lowlands.  This  fact  would  seem  to  be  suffi 
cient  to  show  a  distinct  liking  for  this  grass,  if  not  their 
preference  as  a  food. 

Our  domestic  animals  invariably  chose  the  buffalo 
grass,  and  experience  demonstrates  beyond  question  that 
it  is  the  most  nutritious  of  all  the  varieties  of  the  many 
wild  grasses  of  this  extensive  region. 


TUB   BUFFALO.  369 


The  Buffalo. 

The  favorite  range  of  the  buffalo  is  contained  in  a 
belt  of  country  running  north  and  south,  about  200  miles 
wide  and  extending  from  the  Platte  River  on  the  north 
to  the  valley  of  the  Upper  Canadian  on  the  south.  In 
migrating,  if  not  grazing  or  alarmed,  the  buffalo  invaria 
bly  moves  in  single  file,  the  column  generally  being 
headed  by  a  patriarch  of  the  herd,  who  is  not  only 
familiar  with  the  topography  of  the  country,  but  whose 
prowess  "  in  the  field  "  entitles  him  to  become  the  leader 
of  his  herd.  He  maintains  this  leadership  only  so  long 
as  his  strength  and  courage  enable  him  to  remain  the 
successful  champion  in  the  innumerable  contests  which 
he  is  called  upon  to  undertake. 

The  buffalo  trails  are  always  objects  of  interest  and 
inquiry  to  the  sight-seer  on  The  Plains.  These  trails, 
made  by  the  herds  in  their  migrating  movements,  are  so 
regular  in  their  construction  and  course  as  to  well  excite 
curiosity.  They  vary  but  little  from  eight  to  ten  inches 
in  width,  and  are  usually  from  two  to  four  inches  in 
depth.  Their  course  is  almost  as  unvarying  as  that  ol 
the  needle,  running  north  and  south.  Of  the  thousands 
of  buffalo  trails  which  I  have  seen,  I  recollect  none  oi 
which  the  general  direction  was  not  north  and  south. 


37°  BUFFALO  WALLOWS. 

This  may  seem  somewhat  surprising  at  first  thought,  but 
it  admits  of  a  simple  and  satisfactory  explanation. 

The  general  direction  of  all  streams,  large  and  small, 
on  The  Plains  is  from  west  to  east,  apparently  seeking 
debouchement  in  the  Mississippi. 

The  habits  of  the  buffalo  incline  him  to  graze  and 
migrate  from  one  stream  to  another,  moving  northward 
and  crossing  each  in  succession  as  he  follows  the  young 
grass  in  the  Spring,  and  in  the  Autumn  and  Winter  mov 
ing  southward,  seeking  the  milder  climate  and  open 
grazing.  Throughout  the  buffalo  country  are  to  be  seen 
what  are  termed  "  buffalo  wallows."  The  number  of 
these  is  so  great  as  to  excite  surprise.  A  modest  esti 
mate  would  give  three  to  each  acre  of  ground  throughout 
this  vast  tract  of  country.  These  wallows  are  about 
eight  feet  in  diameter  and  from  six  to  eighteen  inches  in 
depth,  and  are  made  by  the  buffalo  bulls  in  the  Spring, 
when  challenging  a  rival  to  combat  for  the  favor  of  the 
opposite  sex.  The  ground  is  broken  by  pawing — if  an 
animal  with  a  cloven  hoof  can  be  said  to  paw — and  if 
the  challenge  is  accepted,  as  it  usually  is,  the  combat 
takes  place.  After  the  fight  the  victor  remains  in  pos 
session  of  the  battle  field,  and,  occupying  the  "  wallow  " 
of  freshly  upturned  earth,  finds  it  produces  a  cooling 
sensation  to  his  hot  and  gory  sides.  Sometimes  the  vic 
tory  which  gives  possession  of  the  battle  field  and  drives 
a  hated  antagonist  away  is  purchased  at  a  dear  price, 


INDIAN   WARRIOR   AND   HIS    PONY. 

The  carcass  of  the  victor  is  often  found  in  the  wallow, 
where  his  brief  triumph  has  soon  terminated  from  his 
wounds. 

In  the  early  Spring,  during  the  shedding  season,  the 
buffalo  resorts  to  his  "wallow"  to  aid  in  removing  his 
old  coat.  These  "  wallows"  have  proven  of  no  little 
benefit  to  man,  as  well  as  to  animals  other  than  the  buf 
falo.  After  a  heavy  rain  they  become  filled  with  water, 
the  soil  being  of  such  a  compact  character  as  to  retain 
it.  It  has  not  unfrequently  been  the  case  when  making 
long  marches  that  the  streams  would  be  found  dry,  while 
water  in  abundance  could  be  obtained  from  the  '^wal 
lows.  "  True,  it  was  not  of  the  best  quality,  particularly 
if  it  had  been  standing  long  and  the  buffalo  had  patron 
ized  the  ' ' wallows "  as  summer  resorts.  But  on  The 
Plains  a  thirsty  man  or  beast,  far  from  any  stream  of 
water,  does  not  parley  long  with  these  considerations. 

The  Indian  Warrior  and  His  Pony. 

Surely  no  race  of  men,  not  even  the  famous  Cos 
sacks,  could  display  more  wonderful  skill  in  feats  of 
horsemanship  than  the  Indian  warrior  on  his  native 
plains,  mounted  on  his  well-trained  war  pony,  volunta 
rily  running  the  gauntlet  of  his  foes,  drawing  and  receiv 
ing  the  fire  of  hundreds  of  rifles,  and  in  return  sending 
back  a  perfect  shower  of  arrows  or  well-directed  shots 
from  some  souvenir  of  a  peace  commission  in  the  shape 


372  HOW  PONIES  ARE  GRADED. 

of  an  improved  breech-leader.  The  Indian  warrior  is 
capable  of  assuming  positions  on  his  pony,  the  latter  at 
full  speed,  which  no  one  but  an  Indian  could  maintain  a 
single  instant  without  being  thrown  to  the  ground.  The 
pony,  of  course,  is  perfectly  trained,  and  he  seems  to  be 
possessed  of  the  spirit  of  his  rider. 

An  Indian's  wealth  is  most  generally  expressed  by  the 
number  of  his  ponies.  No  warrior  or  chief  is  of  any 
importance  or  distinction  who  is  not  the  owner  of  a  herd 
of  ponies  numbering  from  twenty  to  many  hundreds.  He 
has  for  each  special  purpose  a  certain  number  of  ponies, 
those  that  are  kept  as  pack  animals  being  the  most  infe 
rior  in  quality  and  value.  Then  come  the  ordinary  riding 
ponies  used  on  the  march,  about  camp  and  when  visiting 
neighboring  villages.  Next  in  consideration  is  the  "buf 
falo  pony,"  trained  to  the  hunt,  and  only  employed  when 
dashing  into  the  midst  of  the  huge  buffalo  herds,  when 
the  object  is  either  food  from  the  flesh  or  clothing  and 
shelter  for  the  lodges,  to  be  made  from  the  buffalo  hide. 
In  the  first  grade,  considering  its  value  and  importance, 
is  the  "war  pony,"  the  favorite  of  the  herd — fleet  of 
foot,  quick  in  intelligence  and  full  of  courage.  It  may 
be  safely  asserted  that  the  first  place  in  the  heart  of  the 
warrior  is  held  by  his  faithful  and  obedient  war  pony. 

Indians  are  extremely  fond  of  bartering,  and  they  are 
not  behindhand  in  catching  the  good  points  of  a  bargain. 
They  will  sign  treaties  rjglinquishing  their  lands  and  agree 


EAGER   FOR   BARTER.  373 

to  forsake  the  burial  grounds  of  their  forefathers.  They 
will  part,  for  due  consideration,  with  their  bows  and 
arrows  and  their  accompanying  quivers,  handsomely 
wrought  in  dressed  furs.  Even  their  lodges  may  be  pur 
chased  at  not  an  unfair  valuation,  and  it  is  not  an 
unusual  thing  for  a  chief  or  warrior  to  offer  to  exchange 
his  wife  or  daughter  for  some  article  which  may  have 
taken  his  fancy.  This  is  no  exaggeration.  But  no  In 
dian  of  The  Plains  has  ever  been  known  to  trade,  sell  or 
barter  away  his  favorite  "war  pony."  To  the  warrior 
his  battle  horse  is  as  the  apple  of  his  eye.  Neither  love 
nor  money  can  induce  him  to  part  with  it.  To  see  them 
in  battle,  and  to  witness  how  the  one  almost  becomes  a 
part  of  the  other,  one  might  well  apply  to  the  warrior 

the  lines : 

But  this  gallant 

Had  witchcraft  in  't.     He  grew  into  his  seat, 
And  to  such  wondrous  doing  brought  his  horse. 
As  he  had  been  encorpsed  and  demi-natured 
With  the  brave  beast,  so  far  he  passed  my  thought. 
That  I,  in  forgery  of  shapes  and  tricks, 
Come  short  of  what  he  did. 

The  Insects* 

Wherever  water  is  found  on  The  Plains,  particularly 
if  it  is  standing,  innumerable  gadflies  and  mosquitoes 
generally  abound.  To  such  an  extent  do  these  pests  to 
the  animal  kingdom  exist  that  to  our  thinly  coated  ani- 


374  THE   INSECTS. 

mals,  such  as  the  horse  and  mule,  grazing  is  almost  an 
impossibility.  But  the  buffalo,  with  his  thick  and  shaggy 
coat,  can  browse  undisturbed.  The  most  sanguinary  and 
determined  of  these  troublesome  pests  are  the  "  buffalo 
flies."  They  move  in  myriads,  and  so  violent  and  pain 
ful  are  their  assaults  upon  horses  that  a  herd  of  the  latter 
has  been  known  to  stampede  as  the  result  of  an  attack 
from  a  swarm  of  these  flies. 

But  here,  again,  is  furnished  what  some  reasoners 
would  affirm  is  evidence  of  ' '  the  eternal  fitness  of 
things."  In  most  localities  where  these  flies  are  found 
in  troublesome  numbers  there  are  also  found  flocks  of 
starlings,  a  species  of  blackbird.  These,  probably  more 
to  obtain  a  livelihood  than  to  become  defenders  of  the 
helpless,  perch  themselves  upon  the  backs  of  the  ani 
mals,  and  woe  betide  the  helpless  gadfly  who  ventures 
near,  only  to  become  a  choice  morsel  for  the  starling. 

In  this  way  I  have  seen  herds  of  horses  grazing  un 
disturbed,  each  horse  of  the  many  hundreds  having 
perched  upon  his  back  from  one  to  dozens  of  starlings, 
standing  guard  over  him  while  he  grazed. 

The  Mirage. 

About  the  first  subject  which  addresses  itself  to  the 
mind  of  the  stranger  on  The  Plains,  particularly  if  he  be 
of  a  philosophical  or  scientific  turn  of  mind,  is  the 
mirage,  which  is  here  observed  in  all  its  perfection. 


THE   MIRAGE.  375 

Many  a  weary  mile  of  the  traveler  has  been  whiled 
away  in  endeavors  to  account  for  the  fitful  and  beauti 
fully  changing  visions  presented  by  the  mirage.  Some 
times  the  distortions  are  wonderful,  and  so  natural  as  to 
deceive  the  most  experienced  eye. 

Upon  one  occasion  I  met  a  young  officer  who  had 
spent  several  years  upon  The  Plains  and  in  the  Indian 
country.  He  was,  on  the  occasion  alluded  to,  in  com 
mand  of  a  detachment  of  cavalry  in  pursuit  of  a  party 
of  Indians  who  had  been  committing  depredations  on  the 
frontier. 

While  riding  at  the  head  of  his  command  he  sud 
denly  discovered,  as  he  thought,  a  party  of  Indians  not 
more  than  a  mile  distant.  The  latter  seemed  to  be  gal 
loping  toward  him.  The  attention  of  his  men  was 
called  to  them,  and  they  pronounced  them  Indians  on 
horseback. 

The  "trot"  was  sounded,  and  the  column  moved 
forward  to  the  attack.  The  distance  between  the  attack 
ing  party  and  the  supposed  foe  was  rapidly  diminishing, 
the  Indians  appearing  plainer  to  view  each  moment. 

The  charge  was  about  to  be  sounded,  when  the  dis 
covery  was  made  that  the  supposed  party  of  Indians 
consisted  of  the  decayed  carcasses  of  half  a  dozen  slain 
buffaloes,  which  number  had  been  magnified  by  the 
mirage,  while  the  peculiar  motion  imparted  by  the  latter 
had  given  the  appearance  of  Indians  on  horseback. 


3/6  THIRSTY   TRAVELERS   MISLED. 

I  have  seen  a  train  of  government  wagons  with  white 
canvas  covers  moving  through  a  mirage,  which,  by  ele 
vating  the  wagons  to  treble  their  height  and  magnifying 
the  size  of  the  covers,  presented  the  appearance  of  a 
line  of  large  sailing  vessels  under  full  sail,  while  the 
usual  appearance  of  the  mirage  gave  a  correct  likeness 
of  an  immense  lake  or  sea.  Sometimes  the  mirage  has 
been  the  cause  of  frightful  suffering  and  death  because 
of  its  deceptive  appearance. 

Trains  of  emigrants  making  their  way  to  California 
and  Oregon  have,  while  seeking  water  to  quench  their 
thirst  and  that  of  their  animals,  been  induced  to  depart 
from  their  course  in  the  endeavor  to  reach  the  inviting 
lake  of  water  which  the  mirage  displayed  before  their 
longing  eyes. 

It  is  usually  represented  at  a  distance  "of  five  to  ten 
miles.  Sometimes,  if  the  nature  of  the  ground  is  favor 
able,  it  is  dispelled  by  advancing  toward  it  ;  at  others  it 
is  like  an  ignis  fatuus — hovering  in  sight,  but  keeping 
beyond  reach.  Here  and  there  throughout  this  region 
are  pointed  out  the  graves  of  those  who  are  said  to  have 
been  led  astray  by  the  mirage  until  their  bodies  were 
famished  and  they  succumbed  to  thirst. 

Water. 

The  routes  usually  chosen  for  travel  aero?  .  he  Plains 
may  be  said  to  furnish,  upon  an  average  w»*~ 


ANIMAL  SUMMER   RESORTS.  377 

fifteen  miles.  In  some  instances,  however,  and  during 
the  hot  season  of  the  year,  it  is  necessary  in  places  to  go 
into  what  is  termed  "a  dry  camp" — that  is,  to  encamp 
where  there  is  no  water.  In  such  emergencies,  with  a 
previous  knowledge  of  the  route,  it  is  practicable  to 
transport  from  the  last  camp  a  sufficient  quantity  to  sat 
isfy  the  demands  of  the  people  composing  the  train,  but 
the  dumb  brutes  must  trust  to  the  little  moisture  ob 
tained  from  the  night  grazing  to  quench  their  thirst. 

The  animals  inhabiting  The  Plains  resemble  in  some 
respects  the  fashionable  society  of  some  of  our  larger 
cities.  During  the  extreme  heat  of  the  summer  they 
forsake  their  accustomed  haunts  and  seek  a  more  delight 
ful  retreat.  For,  although  The  Plains  are  drained  by 
streams  of  all  sizes,  from  the  navigable  river  to  the  hum 
blest  brook,  yet  at  certain  seasons  the  supply  of  water 
in  many  of  them  is  of  the  most  uncertain  character.  The 
pasturage,  from  the  excessive  heat,  the  lack  of  sufficient 
moisture  and  the  withering  hot  winds  which  sweep  across 
from  the  south,  becomes  dried,  withered  and  burnt,  and 
is  rendered  incapable  of  sustaining  life.  Then  it  is  that 
the  animals  usually  found  on  The  Plains  disappear  for  a 
short  time,  and  await  the  return  of  a  milder  season. 

The  Wichita  Mountains. 

Having  briefly  grouped  the  prominent  features  of  the 
central  Plains,  a  reference  to  the  country  north  of  Texas 


3/8  THE   WICHITA   MOUNTAINS, 

and  in  which  the  Wichita  Mountains  are  located,  a 
favorite  resort  of  some  of  the  tribes,  is  here  made. 

To  describe  as  one  would  view  it  in  journeying  upon 
horseback  over  this  beautiful  and  romantic  country  and 
picture  with  the  pen  those  vast  solitudes — so  silent  that 
their  silence  alone  increases  their  grandeur — to  gather 
inspiration  from  Nature  and  to  attempt  to  paint  the 
scene  as  my  eyes  beheld  it,  would  comprise  a  task  from 
which  a  much  abler  pen  than  mine  might  shrink. 

The  scene  was  a  beautiful  and  ever-changing  pano 
rama  which  at  one  moment  excited  the  beholder's  highest 
admiration  and  at  the  next  impressed  him  with  speech 
less  veneration. 

Approaching  the  Wichita  Mountains  from  the  north, 
and  after  the  eye  has  perhaps  been  wearied  by  the  tame- 
ness  and  monotony  of  the  unbroken  Plains,  the  tourist 
is  gladdened  by  the  relief  which  the  sight  of  these  pict 
uresque  and  peculiarly  beautiful  mountains  affords. 

Here  are  to  be  seen  all  the  varied  colors  which  Bier- 
stadt  and  Church  endeavor  to  represent  in  their  mountain 
scenery.  A  journey  across  and  around  them  on  foot  and 
upon  horseback  will  well  repay  either  the  tourist  or  the 
artist. 

The  air  is  pure  and  fragrant,  and  as  exhilarating  as 
the  purest  of  wine. 

The  climate  is  entrancingly  mild,  the  sky  clear  and 
blue  as  the  most  beautiful  sapphire,  with  here  and  there 


FEATHERED    CHORISTERS.  379 

clouds  of  rarest  loveliness,  presenting  to  the  eye  the 
richest  commingling  of  bright  and  varied  colors. 

Delightful  odors  are  constantly  being  wafted  upon  the 
breeze.  The  forests,  filled  with  the  mocking  bird,  the 
colibri,  the  humming  bird  and  the  thrush,  constantly  put 
forth  a  joyful  chorus. 

The  sights  and  sounds  all  combine  to  fill  the  soul  with 
visions  of  delight  and  enhance  the  perfection  and  glory 
of  the  creation. 

Strong,  indeed,  must  be  that  unbelief  which  can 
here  contemplate  Nature  in  all  her  purity  and  glory  and, 
unawed  by  the  sublimity  of  this  closely  connected  testi 
mony,  question  either  the  Divine  origin  or  purpose  of 
the  beautiful  firmament. 

Unlike  most  mountains,  the  Wichita  can  not  properly 
be  termed  a  range  or  chain.  They  can  be  correctly  des 
ignated  a  collection  or  group,  as  many  of  the  highest 
and  most  beautiful  are  detached  and  stand  on  a  level 
plain  "  solitary  and  alone." 

They  are  mainly  composed  of  granite,  the  huge  blocks 
of  which  exhibit  numerous  shades  of  beautiful  colors — 
crimson,  purple,  yellow  and  green  predominating.  They 
are  conical  in  shape,  and  seem  to  have  but  little  resem 
blance  to  the  soil  upon  which  they  are  founded.  They 
rise  abruptly  from  a  level  surface — so  level  and  unob 
structed  that  it  would  be  an  easy  matter  for  one  to  drive 
a  carriage  to  any  point  of  the  circumference  at  the  base 


380  THE  INDIAN. 

—and  yet  so  steep  and  broken  are  the  sides  that  it  is 
only  here  and  there  that  it  is  possible  to  ascend  them. 
From  the  foot   of  almost   every  mountain  pours  a 
stream  of  limpid  water  of  almost  icy  coldness. 


The  Indian. 

If  the  character  given  to  the  Indian  by  James  Feni- 
more  Cooper  and  other  novelists,  as  well  as  by  the  well 
meaning  but  mistaken  philanthropists  of  a  later  day, 
were  the  true  one  ;  if  the  Indian  were  the  innocent  and 
simple-minded  being  which  he  is  represented  to  be — 
more  the  creature  of  romance  than  reality,  imbued  only 
with  a  deep  veneration  for  the  works  of  Nature,  freed 
from  the  passions  and  vices  which  must  accompany  a 
savage  nature  ;  if,  in  other  words,  he  possessed  all  the 
virtues  which  his  admirers  and  writers  of  fiction  ascribe 
to  him  and  were  free  from  all  the  vices  which  those  best 
qualified  to  judge  assign  to  him,  he  would  be  just  the 
character  to  complete  the  picture  which  is  presented  by 
that  section  of  the  country  which  embraces  the  Wichita 
Mountains. 

Cooper,  to  whose  writings  more  than  to  those  of  any 
0ther  author  are  the  people  speaking  the  English  lan 
guage  indebted  for  a  false  and  ill-judged  estimate  of  the 


GLAMOR  OF  FICTION.  38 1 

Indian  character,  might  well  have  laid  the  scenes  of  his 
fictitious  stories  in  this  beautiful  and  romantic  country. 

It  is  to  be  regretted  that  the  character  of  the  Indian 
as  described  in  Cooper's  interesting  novels  is  not  the  true 
one.  It  is  not  a  pleasant  task  to  dispel  the  glamor  that 
he  threw  about  the  noble  red  man. 

But  as,  in  emerging  from  childhood  into  the  years  of 
a  maturer  age,  we  are  often  compelled  to  cast  aside  our 
earlier  illusions  and  replace  them  by  beliefs  less  inviting 
but  more  real,  so  we,  as  a  people,  with  opportunities 
enlarged  and  facilities  for  obtaining  knowledge  increased, 
have  been  forced  by  a  multiplicity  of  causes  to  study  and 
endeavor  to  comprehend  thoroughly  the  character  of  the 
red  man. 

So  intimately  has  he  become  associated  with  the  gov 
ernment  as  a  ward  of  the  Nation,  and  so  prominent  a 
place  among  the  questions  of  national  policy  does  the 
much-mooted  " Indian  question"  occupy,  that  it  be 
hooves  us  no  longer  to  study  this  problem  in  works  of 
fiction,  but  to  deal  with  it  as  it  exists  in  reality. 

Stripped  of  the  beautiful  romances  with  which  we 
have  been  so  long  willing  to  envelop  him,  transferred 
from  the  inviting  pages  of  the  novelist  to  the  localities 
where  we  are  compelled  to  meet  with  him — in  his  native 
village,  on  the  war  path  and  when  raiding  upon  our 
frontier  settlements  and  lines  of  travel — the  Indian  for 
feits  all  claim  to  the  appellation  "  noble  red  man." 


$82  IN   EVERY   SENSE   A   SAVAGE. 

We  see  him  as  he  is,  and,  so  far  as  all  knowledge 
goes,  as  he  ever  has  been — a  savage  in  every  sense  of 
the  word.  He  is  not  worse,  perhaps,  than  would  be  his 
white  brother  similarly  born  and  bred,  but  is  one  whose 
cruel  and  ferocious  nature  far  exceeds  that  of  any  wild 
beast  of  the  desert. 

That  this  is  true  no  one  who  has  been  brought  into 
intimate  contact  with  the  wild  tribes  will  deny.  Perhaps 
there  are  some  who,  as  members  of  peace  commissions 
or  as  wandering  agents  of  some  benevolent  society,  may 
have  visited  these  tribes  or  attended  with  them  at  coun 
cils  held  for  some  pacific  purpose,  and  who,  by  passing 
through  the  villages  of  the  Indians  while  at  peace,  may 
imagine  their  opportunities  for  judging  of  the  Indian 
nature  all  that  could  be  desired. 

But  the  Indian,  while  he  can  seldom  be  accused  of 
indulging  in  a  great  variety  of  wardrobe,  can  be  said  to 
have  a  character  capable  of  adapting  itself  to  almost 
every  occasion. 

He  has  one  character — perhaps  his  most  serviceable 
one — which  he  preserves  carefully,  and  only  airs  it  when 
making  his  appeal  to  the  government  or  its  agents  for 
arms,  ammunition  and  license  to  employ  them. 

This  character  is  invariably  paraded,  and  often  with 
telling  effect,  when  the  motive  is  a  peaceful  one. 

Prominent  chiefs,  invited  to  visit  Washington,  inva 
riably  don  this  character,  and  in  their  ' '  talks  "  with  the 


A   SUBJECT   FOR   STUDY.  383 

" Great  Father"  and  other  less  prominent  personages 
they  successfully  contrive  to  exhibit  but  this  one  phase. 

Seeing  them  under  these  or  similar  circumstances 
only,  it  is  not  surprising  that  by  many  the  Indian  is 
looked  upon  as  a  simple-minded  "son  of  Nature,"  desir 
ing  nothing  but  the  privilege  of  roaming  and  hunting 
over  the  vast  and  unsettled  wilds  of  the  West,  inheriting 
and  asserting  but  few  native  rights,  and  never  trespass 
ing  upon  the  rights  of  others. 

This  view  is  equally  erroneous  with  that  other  which 
regards  the  Indian  as  a  creature  possessing  the  human 
form  but  divested  of  all  other  attributes  of  humanity, 
and  whose  traits  of  character,  habits,  modes  of  life,  dis 
position  and  savage  customs  disqualify  him  from  the 
exercise  of  all  rights  and  privileges,  even  those  pertain 
ing  to  life  itself. 

Taking  him  as  we  find  him — at  peace  or  at  war,  at 
home  or  abroad,  waiving  all  prejudices  and  laying  aside 
all  partiality — we  will  discover  in  the  Indian  a  subject 
for  thoughtful  study  and  painstaking  investigation  back 
through  some  centuries. 

In  him  we  will  find  the  representative  of  a  race  the 
origin  of  which  is,  and  promises  to  be,  a  subject  for  ever 
wrapped  in  mystery;  a  race  incapable  of  being  judged 
by  the  rules  or  laws  applicable  to  any  other  known  race 
of  men  ;  one  between  which  and  civilization  there  seems 
to  have  existed  from  time  immemorial  a  determined  and 


384  THE   INDIAN   SUMMED   UP. 

unceasing  warfare — a  hostility  so  deep  seated  and  inbred 
with  the  Indian  character  that  in  the  exceptional  in 
stances  where  the  modes  and  habits  of  civilization  have 
bee-n  reluctantly  adopted  such  adoption  has  been  at  the 
sacrifice  of  power  and  influence  as  a  tribe,  and  the  more 
serious  loss  of  health,  vigor  and  courage  as  individuals. 


CATTLE  AND    RANCHING. 


CHAPTER   II. 


GAINS  IN  CATTLE  RANCHING — HOW  TO  START  IN  THE 
BUSINESS — THE  STOCK  COUNTRY — THE  RANGES — THE 
RIGHTS  OF  SETTLERS — THE  DASHING  COWBOY. 

Away  from  the  haunts  of  men  one  seldom  meets  any 
of  the  upper  and  educated  classes,  and  the  pleasures  of 
social  and  literary  intercourse  are  for  the  time  super 
seded.  The  life  is  sometimes  pleasant  and  sometimes 
dreary  ;  there  is  plenty  of  exposure  and  not  a  little  dis 
comfort  ;  there  is  generally  good  health,  and  consequent 
good  temper ;  there  are  all  sorts  and  conditions  of  men, 
who  meet  you  on  perfect  equality,  whether  better  or 
worse  than  yourself ;  your  wants  are  few,  as  generally 
you  have  to  satisfy  them  yourself. 

It  is  wonderful  how  you  lop  off  necessities  when  they 
burden  your  time  and  occupations. 

You  have  entered  on  a  new  life  in  a  new  world.  It 
(385) 


386  CATTLE   AND   RANCHING. 

is  not  all  admirable,  for  good  and  evil  are  everywhere 
balanced.  With  freedom  in  forming  new  opinions,  you 
are  apt  to  grow  disdainful  of  the  small  niceties  of  civili 
zation.  The  trammels  of  society  are  cast  off,  leading 
to  a  dangerous  drop  into  rude  habits  and  ill-restrained 
language.  The  impossibility  of  fulfilling  all  the  refine 
ments  of  the  toilet  engenders  a  disregard  of  personal 
neatness.  Much  can  not  be  helped  ;  some  things  might 
be  avoided. 

Young  men  are  naturally  the  more  easily  influenced 
by  their  surroundings,  and  fall  too  readily  into  the  habits 
and  tricks  of  speech  most  honored  on  the  prairies.  This 
is  the  main  educational  disadvantage  to  young  men  start 
ing  alone  in  the  West,  for  good  breeding  has  to  be  nur 
tured  by  descent  and  association.  Coarseness  may  be 
learned  in  a  day. 


The   Gain  in  Cattle   Ranching. 

We  have  all  heard  of  the  gains  in  cattle  ranching. 
AS  not  30  per  cent  a  common  return  ? 

The  fact  is  pointed  out  that  Maverick,  one  of  the 
cattle  kings,  began  with  a  single  steer  and  a  branding 
iron.  Now  his  herds  browse  on  a  hundred  hills. 

There  is  money  in  that. 

How  can  we  do  likewise  ?  The  times  for  these  mar 
vels  of  money  getting  are  gone  by. 


HOW  TO  START.  387 

After  the  war  a  vast  number  of  unclaimed  cattle  were 
running  loose.  They  were  the  spoil  of  whoever  could 
rope  them.  Those  who  bought  even  ten  years  later  got 
their  herds  at  the  very  low  average  of  $7  to  $8  a  head. 

If  you  have  plenty  of  room  and  good  feed,  you  may 
expect  80  to  90  per  cent  of  calves  to  cows.  If,  at  the 
same  time,  the  all-round  price  advances  to  $22  or  $24, 
the  chances  have  been  much  in  your  favor. 

Now  the  expenses  in  a  crowded  country  of  searching 
out  your  cattle  at  the  different  round-ups  and  in  parts  of 
the  country  lying  sixty  miles  from  your  range  foot  up 
such  a  total  that  with  less  than  5,000  head  the  stock 
owner's  profit  is  far  below  the  normal. 

Men  still  do  start  with  small  numbers,  but  they  have 
first  to  seek  a  very  secluded  spot,  and  then  must  be  con 
stantly  riding  around  and  driving  the  cattle  back  on  the 
home  range.  This  injures  the  cattle,  there  is  great  loss 
of  labor  in  doing  continually  over  again  the  same  work, 
and  the  rancher  is  forced  to  lay  in  a  stock  of  hay  to  feed 
his  cattle  in  the  Winter  time,  as  he  can  not  allow  them 
to  roam  at  liberty  and  shift  for  themselves. 


How  to  Start  in  the  Cattle  Business. 
There  is  still  room,  and  whether  you  wish  to  amuse 
yourself,  find  occupation  or  try  a  new  life  there  are  open 
ings.     The  main  point  is  to  be  careful  and  in  no  hurry; 
settle  and  wait.     To  be  on  the  safe  side,  if  you  have 


388  THE  TENDERFOOT'S  DOOM. 

capital  leave  it  at  home.  Learn  the  business  you  wish 
to  follow  by  working  at  it  with  your  own  hands.  Pay  no 
premiums,  but  hire  yourself  out.  If  active  and  willing, 
you  are  worth  your  keep.  At  the  end  of  two  months, 
if  he  is  a  sensible  man  and  meaning  to  get  on,  your  em 
ployer  will  be  glad  to  give  you  wages,  for  steady  men  are 
scarce.  Many  know  their  work,  but  few  will  do  it,  and 
still  fewer  are  to  be  trusted  out  of  sight. 

You  will  soon  be  able  to  save  money — a  very  little, 
no  doubt,  but  enough  to  make  you  think  of  investing. 

This  will  set  you  to  inquiring  into  prices  and  into  the 
chances  of  a  return.  You  will  probably  by  one  or  two 
bad  deals  pick  up  experience,  and  will  learn  that  saddest 
lesson — a  distrust  of  men. 

After  a  couple  of  years  you  may  venture  an  inde 
pendent  start.  You  can  take  up  16o  and  320  acres  at  a 
very  little  expense,  under  the  government  land  laws  ;  or, 
you  may  buy  out  some  one  who  has  pre-empted  a  claim 
suitable  to  your  purposes.  Your  money  will  help  you  to 
stock  it  and  buy  farm  implements. 

The  tenderfoot  who  takes  his  dollars  in  his  trouser 
pockets  is  a  lost  man. 

Every  old  settler  with  a  poor  farm,  a  worn-out  wagon 
and  horses,  a  valueless  mine  or  property,  will  make  a 
dead-set  at  the  coin,  and  they  are  not  easily  shaken  off. 
Their  tricks  are  dark  but  not  vain,  and  their  victims  are 
legion  among  those  not  wise  in  their  generation, 


TBRRES  MAUVAISES.  $89 


The  Stock  Country. 

In  Denver  you  are  in  the  middle  of  the  stock  coun 
try.  North,  south,  east  and  west  cattle  have  been  raised 
and  are  still  running  on  the  prairies  where  the  grass  has 
not  been  fed  off. 

The  prairies  include  all  the  unsettled  parts.  Thfcy 
are  sometimes  grass  land,  sometimes  covered  with  sage 
and  other  brush,  among  which  grass  is  found.  The  term 
takes  in  flat  table  lands,  the  slopes  of  mountains,  and 
what  are  called  bad  lands,  which  are  the  wildest  jumble 
of  hills,  ravines,  small  flats  of  excellent  grass,  and 
stretches  of  almost  bare  lava  rocks.  The  name  is  derived 
from  the  French,  who  wrote  on  their  maps  :  * '  Terres 
mauvaises  a  traverser." 

In  the  hurry  of  business  the  first  two  words  only  were 
translated,  and  consequently  left  a  wrong  impression,  for 
these  lands  often  afford  excellent  cattle  ranges.  The 
grass  is  rich,  water  is  to  be  found  in  many  deep  ravines, 
and  the  broken  ground  gives  goo^  shelter  against  storms. 

The  Cattle  Ranches* 

At  the  cattle  ranches,  where  a  half-dozen  cowboys 
may  have  to  spend  the  winter,  fair-sized  rooms  are  put 
up,  the  accommodations  being  increased  and  improved 


39O  SETTLERS'  RIGHTS. 

year  by  year.     Bunks  occupy  one  end  of  the  room,  a 

huge  fire-place  the  other,  from  which  the  mound  of  hot 
ashes,  topped  by  two  enormous  logs,  fills  the  room  with 
light  and  warmth.  A  large  area  of  ground  is  fenced  near 
the  ranch,  in  which  horses  likely  to  be  required  are 
turned  loose.  The  range  lies  outside  this,  its  extent  de 
pending  on  the  cattle  man's  ideas,  tempered  by  the  opin 
ions  of  his  near  neighbors. 


Settlers'  Rights. 

There  are,  of  course,  no  absolute  rights.  The  land 
is  all  government — often  even  that  which  is  fenced — 
and  there  is  little  attempt  to  segregate  the  herds.  Some 
of  the  Territories  have  passed  laws  acknowledging  set 
tlers'  rights  on  streams,  or  to  pieces  of  land  they  have 
inclosed  ;  but  this  is  contrary  to  State  law,  and  latterly 
a  circular  was  issued  in  California  pointing  this  out,  and 
distinctly  laying  down  the  law  that  others  could  enter  on 
such  land  without  trespass. 

Among  stock  raisers,  however,  there  is  much  give  and 
take.  The  first  settlers  naturally  try  to  keep  out  new 
comers.  They  must  end  in  accepting  the  inevitable — 
that  is,  so  long  as  there  is  grass  cattle  will  crowd  in. 

But  the  great  enemy  to  stock  is  the  plow.  The  farm 
ers  are  coming  slowly  but  surely  from  the  eastward,  and 
parts  of  Kansas  and  Nebraska  have  gone  over  to  tillage. 


THE   DASHING   COWBOY.  391 

Stock  must  give  way  and  disappear  into  the  mountains 
and  rugged  country. 


The  Dashing    Cowboy. 

Formerly  the  man  who  shouted  the  loudest,  galloped 
hardest  and  was  quickest  in  drawing  his  "gun"  was 
considered  the  most  dashing  cowboy. 

In  the  days  gone  by  if  a  cowboy,  coming  up  on  the 
Texas  Trail,  had  failed  to  kill  his  man,  he  was  held  to 
have  wasted  his  opportunities. 

But  times  are  changing  for  the  better. 

Now  only  in  the  South — for  instance,  Arizona — is  the 
term  cowboy  equivalent  to  desperado. 


CHAPTER  III. 

CATTLE  ON  THE  RANGES — CATTLE  IN  WINTER — ADVAN- 
TANGES  OF  CATTLE  RAISING  OVER  HORSE  RAISING— 
THE  ROUND-UP — •"  CUTTING  OUT" THE  COW  PONIES 

BRANDING    CALVES — BRANDING    CATTLE INCREASED 

VALUE    OF    CATTLE    HAS    INTRODUCED    MORE    CARE  AND 
GENTLER   HANDLING    IN    THEIR    MANAGEMENT. 

While  roaming  on  the  range  the  less  the  cattle  are 
interfered  with  the  better,  particularly  in  the  Winter. 
In  this  half  wild  state  they  can  take  much  better  care  of 
themselves  and  find  shelter  and  food  ;  whereas,  if  they 
were  herded — that  is,  controlled  in  any  way  by  men — 
they  would  probably  starve. 

The  cows,  which  in  cowboy  language  includes  all 
sexes  and  sizes,  split  up  into  bunches  and  take  possession 
of  some  small  valley  or  slope  where  water  is  procurable 
at  no  great  distance.  The  shallowest  spring  bubbling  up 
through  mud  will  satisfy  a  small  lot,  if  they  get  it  all  to 
themselves— a  spring  so  small  that,  knowing  it  must  exist 


CATTLE   IN   WINTER.  393 

from  the  presence  of  the  cattle,  you  would  scarcely  find 
it  unless  for  their  tracks,  and  when  you  reach  it  there  is 
nothing  fit  for  you  to  drink,  and  most  likely  your  horse 
will  refuse  the  mixture  of  mud  in  alkaline  water  which 
pleases  the  cow. 

If  water  is  scarce  the  cattle  must  make  long  tramps, 
and  the  country  is  then  crossed  by  deeply  trodden  paths, 
which  are  an  unerring  guide  to  the  thirsty  horseman. 
The  cattle  come  down  these  paths  just  before  the  sun 
gets  hot,  have  a  drink  and  then  lie  down  till  the  evening, 
when  they  go  off  again  to  the  pasture  at  some  distance, 
and  feed  most  part  of  the  night. 


Cattle  in  Winter. 

In  the  beginning  of  Winter  the  cattle  leave  the  high 
ground,  and  the  appearance  of  a  few  hundred  head  in 
the  valley  which  the  day  before  was  empty  tells  the  tale 
of  severe  cold  or  snow  storms  in  the  mountains. 

They  like  the  shelter  of  heavy  timber,  which  they 
find  along  the  banks  of  streams,  and  here  at  some  rapid 
or  at  the  tail  of  a  beaver  dam  is  their  latest  chance  for 
getting  water.  They  can  not,  like  the  horse,  eat  snow, 
nor  does  their  instinct  suggest  to  them  to  paw  away  that 
covering  to  reach  the  grass  beneath.  In  fact,  the  cattle 
will  sometimes  attach  themselves  to  a  herd  of  horses* 
sustaining  life  by  following  in  their  footsteps. 


394  ADVANTAGES   OF  CATTLE   RAISIN©. 

When  times  are  hard  the  cattle  will  subsist  on  grease 
wood  and  eat  almost  any  thing,  but  until  the  young 
sprouts  begin  to  shoot  there  is  on  the  prairie  little  to  find 
after  the  snow  covers  the  ground.  Bare  cottonwood 
trees  line  the  streams.  On  the  bark  of  these  trees  horses 
will  manage  to  keep  alive,  but  the  cattle  are  far  less 
hardy  than  the  horses.  These  will  come  through  the 
exceptional  Winters  when  20  per  cent  of  the  cattle  have 
been  lost. 

The  Advantages  of  Cattle  Raising  Over  Horse 

Raising. 

In  the  matter  of  breeding  cattle  and  horses,  the  for 
mer  have  some  advantages.  There  is,  and  must  always 
be,  an  increasing  demand  for  beef,  and  in  the  disposal  of 
your  live  stock  there  is  a  great  convenience  in  being  able 
to  ship  any  number  by  a  train  load  to  Chicago.  There 
they  can  be  disposed  of  in  a  day.  Horses  must,  gener 
ally,  be  sold  in  small  lots.  Besides,  the  losses  by  horse 
thieves,  both  red  and  white,  are  greater  than  from  cattle 
thieves. 

The  Indians  often  shoot  a  calf  for  food  in  Winter, 
being  altogether  easier  to  find  and  better  to  eat  than  are 
deer  and  buffalo.  Some  stockmen  believe  they  lose  a 
large  number  from  the  redskins,  but  these  are  decreasing 
in  numbers  every  year,  and  are  being  restricted  continu- 


THE   ROUND-UP.  395 

ally  to  smaller  reservations,  in  which  they  are  more  suc 
cessfully  watched. 


The  Round-Up. 

A  round-up  is  the  general  arrangement  among  cattle 
men  in  a  given  district  to  work  the  cattle  by  a  common 
establishment.  Each  owner  sends  one  or  more  cowboys 
to  represent  his  brand  and  to  take  charge  of  all  animals 
belonging  to  his  herd. 

The  management  is  placed  in  the  hands  of  an  expe 
rienced  foreman,  and  the  ground  to  be  covered  is  of  a 
great  extent,  occupying  the  men  from  a  couple  of  months 
to  an  entire  season. 

The  main  plan  is,  each  day,  to  drive  the  cattle  out  of 
all  outlying  valleys  into  some  central  level  spot.  From 
the  mixed  mass  the  different  brands  are  separated,  com 
mencing  with  the  largest  herd.  This  mode  is  a  distinct 
advantage  to  the  large  owners,  as  the  principal  object  of 
the  general  round-up  is  to  get  at  the  young  calves. 

While  these  are  being  "cut  out,"  as  it  is  called,  the 
cattle  in  the  main  bunch  are  churned  up,  so  that  calves 
get  separated  from  their  mothers  ;  and,  as  the  only  title 
to  a  calf  is  that  it  is  following  a  cow  with  your  brand, 
those  who  cut  out  last  will  naturally  lose  some  which 
belong  to  them. 


"CUTTING   OUT." 


"  Mavericks." 

Any  unbranded  calf  which  is  found  not  following  a 
cow  is  called  a  "maverick."  All  such  belong  either  to 
the  man  on  whose  range  they  have  been  found  or  are 
shared  according  to  local  custom. 


"Cutting   Out." 

The  process  of  cutting  out  a  cow  and  calf  is  very 
pretty,  if  neatly  done.  One  man  can  do  it,  but  two  men 
are  seldom  too  many  on  the  task. 

The  cowboy  rides  through  the  gathering  of  cattle  till 
he  sees  a  cow  and  calf  which  belong  to  him.  He  follows 
these  quietly,  trying  to  shove  them  to  the  edge  of  the 
herd.  As  he  gets  them  moving  he  quickens  his  pace, 
and  when  on  the  outside  he  will  endeavor  to  push  them 
straight  out  of  the  mass.  But  the  cow  is  disinclined  to 
leave  her  companions,  and  generally  tries  by  running 
around  to  break  back  into  the  main  bunch.  This  move 
the  cowboy  has  to  prevent  by  riding  between  the  cow 
and  her  object. 

Cow,  calf  and  horse  are  soon  going  their  best,  and 
the  cowboy  must  be  ready  to  turn  as  quickly  as  does  his 
game.  He  must,  however,  be  careful  not  to  separate 
the  young  one,  for  should  this  happen  his  labor  is  lost. 


"CUTTING    OUT."  397 

In  that  event  he  must  let  the  cow  rejoin  the  herd  and 
recover  her  calf. 

Each  batch  of  cows  thus  separated  is  kept  a  certain 
distance  off — say,  200  yards — and  is  watched  by  a  man 
to  prevent  them  rejoining  the  main  herd,  or  from  mixing 
together. 

If  the  cowboy  has  been  successful,  the  cow  is  soon 
blown,  and,  finding  herself  checked  in  doing  what  she 
wishes,  will  yield.  Then,  seeing  another  lot  of  cattle 
which  she  is  not  interrupted  from  joining,  she  will  trot 
contentedly  toward  them,  and,  having  her  calf  along 
side,  will  settle  down  quietly. 

This  cutting  out  goes  on  all  day  long,  until  the  whole 
herd  is  divided.  It  is  hard  work  on  the  men,  and  par 
ticularly  hard  on  the  horses,  which  have  to  be  changed 
two  or  three  times  during  the  day.  The  quick  turning 
and  stopping  must  shake  their  legs,  and  certainly  bring 
on  sore  backs.  Their  mouths  do  not  suffer.  Riding 
with  very  severe  bits,  the  cowboy  has  necessarily  a  light 
hand,  and  hardly  uses  the  reins  for  turning.  The  horses 
know  the  work,  and  a  touch  on  the  neck  brings  them 
around  at  a  pace  which  sends  the  beginner  out  of  his 
saddle.  Cowboy  and  pony  should  be  trained  together. 


39**  THE   COW   PONIES. 


The  Cow  Ponies. 

The  cow  ponies  are  rather  small  animals,  and  half 
disappear  under  the  big  saddles  of  the  cowboys,  which 
often  weigh  forty  pounds. 

The  progenitor  of  the  cow  pony  is  the  bronco,  which 
came  into  this  region  with  the  cattle  driven  up  from 
Texas.  They  have,  however,  been  much  improved  in 
latter  years.  The  biggest  are  by  no  means  the  best.  A 
short  and  compact  pony  of  about  fourteen  hands  works 
more  quickly  than  a  larger  animal. 

Some  of  them,  with  small  and  well  shaped  heads  and 
bright  eyes,  are  really  comely  animals.  Their  manes  and 
coats  are  shaggy,  showing  coarse  breeding,  and  their 
tempers  are  not  to  be  trusted.  Each  boy,  when  out  cow 
punching,  rides  from  six  to  ten  horses,  using  them  in 
turns,  and  without  the  slightest  compunction  riding  one 
horse  fifty  or  sixty  miles,  of  which  a  good  deal  may  be 
fast  work. 

After  the  day's  duty  he  takes  off  the  saddle  and  the 
bridle,  and  without  further  ado  lets  the  horse  loose.  The 
pony,  after  a  good  roll,  takes  up  the  scent  and  rejoins 
the  herd  of  horses.  His  turn  for  work  will  not  come 
around  again  for  several  days. 

Of  course,  they  get  nothing  to  eat  but  the  grass  they 
pick  up,  and  they  are  seldom  shod.  Their  half-wild 


BRANDING    CALVES.  399 

origin  is  attested  by  the  majority  of  duns  and  sorrels. 
The  heavy  saddles  are  believed  to  be  a  benefit  to  the 
horse,  as  on  account  of  their  size  and  solidity  they  dis 
tribute  the  weight  of  the  rider  and  his  kit  over  a  larger 
portion  of  the  animal's  back.  There  is  truth  in  this,  and 
for  long  journeys  probably  the  ease  of  the  big  saddle 
more  than  compensates  for  the  extra  weight.  But  in 
roping  cattle  the  heavy  saddle  is  an  absolute  necessity. 
There  are  often  two  girths.  These  must  be  well  tight 
ened,  and  even  then  the  jerks  try  the  horses  severely. 
The  end  of  the  rope  is  held  fast  by  a  turn  around  the 
horn,  which  stands  six  inches  above  the  pommel.  Often 
the  rider  has  to  hang  heavily  over  the  farther  side  to  pre 
vent  the  chance  of  the  whole  saddle  being  turned  round. 
The  big  spurs  do  not  hurt  the  horses.  To  make  them 
effective  at  all  the  cowboy  reaches  his  heels  forward  and 
spurs  his  horse  in  the  shoulder. 


Branding  Calves. 

If  there  is  still  time,  it  is  best  to  brand  all  the  calves 
the  same  day,  as,  after  that  operation,  the  cattle  may 
often  be  turned  loose  to  run  on  the  same  range  in  which 
they  were  caught.  But  if  the  outfit  to  which  they  belong 
has  its  principal  range  at  some  distance,  the  batch  must 
be  taken  off  and  driven  and  watched  until  they  arrive  on 
their  own  range.  It  is  not  absolutely  necessary  to  have 


4OO  BRANDING    CALVES. 

a  corral  to  brand  in,  but  if  you  can  run  your  bunch  into 
one  it  saves  trouble.  The  corral  is  roughly  and  strongly 
made  of  posts  and  rails,  about  five  feet  high.  It  should 
be  large  enough  to  hold  your  bunch  of  cattle  and  leave 
room  for  working.  Just  outside  a  fire  is  lit,  and  one  man 
keeps  the  brands  hot,  which  he  passes  through  the  rails 
as  they  are  called  for.  In  a  small  corral  one  man  on 
horseback  is  enough  inside,  and  he  can  be  dispensed  with 
unless  there  are  large  calves  to  handle.  A  man,  armed 
with  a  rope  lasso,  catches  a  calf  by  throwing  it  over  his 
head.  If  a  little  fellow,  the  calf  is  dragged  to  one  side, 
caught  and  thrown  down,  cut  and  branded  in  a  very 
short  time.  But  a  calf  of  two  or  three  months  even  is 
not  always  easily  managed.  The  noose  having  been 
tightened  on  his  neck,  the  end  of  the  rope  is  then  passed 
around  one  of  the  rails.  The  calf  gallops  up  and  down 
the  arena  at  the  fullest  length  of  his  tether,  jumping  and 
bellowing  as  if  he  knew  his  end  was  coming.  By  slow 
degrees  the  rope  is  overhauled,  and  the  length  which 
gives  the  calf  play  is  shortened.  One  of  the  men  will 
then  go  up  to  it,  catching  it  by  the  rope  around  the  neck 
in  one  hand,  and,  passing  his  hand  over  its  back,  by  the 
loose  skin  on  its  flank  near  the  stifle,  with  the  other. 

The  more  the  calf  jumps  the  better,  and  if  he  is  slow 
and  stupid  he  will  get  a  shake  to  arouse  him.  There 
fore,  taking  the  time  by  the  calf,  the  man  seizes  the 
opportunity  of  one  of  his  prances,  puts  a  knee  under  him 


BRANDING     CALVES.  4OI 

to  turn  his  body  over,  and  then  lets  him  drop  to  the 
ground  on  his  side.  Another  man  catches  hold  of  a  hind 
leg,  which  is  stretched  out  to  its  full  length.  The  first 
man  sits  near  the  calf's  head,  with  one  knee  on  the  neck, 
and  doubles  up  one  fore  foot. 

The  calves  generally  lie  quietly,  and  do  not  bellow, 
even  when  they  feel  the  hot  iron.  But  a  few  make  up 
for  the  silent  ones  by  roaring  their  best. 

A  good  -sized  calf  gives  a  lot  of  trouble.  After  the 
rope  around  the  neck  has  been  drawn  up,  another  noose 
is  thrown  to  catch  one  of  the  hind  legs,  which  should  be 
the  one  not  on  the  side  to  be  branded.  This  rope  is  also 
passed  around  a  rail,  and  is  hauled  tight  till  the  animal 
is  well  extended.  Somebody  takes  hold  of  his  tail,  and 
with  a  strong  jerk  throws  him  onto  his  side.  A  hitch  is 
taken  wilh  the  same  rope  around  his  other  hind  foot  and 
the  noose  is  loosened  around  his  throat,  but  the  man 
leans  his  best  on  the  calf's  neck  and  holds  his  fore  leg 
tightly.  He  must  look  out  for  the  brute's  head,  as  the 
calf  throws  it  about,  and  if  it  should  strike  the  man's 
thigh  instead  of  the  ground,  as  it  is  very  liable  to  do,  he 
will  receive  a  bruise  from  the  young  horns  which  he  will 
not  have  the  chance  of  forgetting  for  a  good  many  days. 

The  brand  should  not  be  red  hot,  and  when  applied 
to  the  hide  should  be  pressed  only  just  sufficiently  to  keep 
it  in  one  place.  The  brand,  if  properly  done,  shows  by 
a  pink  color  that  it  has  bitten  into  the  skin,  through  the 


4O2  BRANDING    CALVES. 

hair.  Some  of  the  stock,  in  the  early  Spring,  have  very 
shaggy  coats,  and  a  brand  applied  only  so  long  to  their 
hide  as  would  answer  in  most  cases  would  leave  a  bad 
mark  which  would  hardly  show  next  Winter. 

The  calf,  when  finished  with,  generally  gets  up  qui 
etly,  so  soon  as  it  feels  the  rope  loosen,  and  rejoins  the 
others.  The  cows  seldom  interfere  to  protect  their 
progeny,  but  when  you  do  find  one  on  the  war  path  she 
makes  the  ring  lively,  and  all  hands  are  prepared,  at 
short  notice,  to  nimbly  climb  the  fence  or  jump  over. 

To  keep  steadily  at  catching,  throwing  and  branding 
is  hard  work.  The  sun  is  hot,  the  corral  is  full  of  dust 
from  the  cattle  running  round  and  round,  and  your  clean 
suit  is  spoiled  with  the  blood  and  dirt  of  the  operations. 
You  may  have,  besides,  a  tumble  yourself  when  throw 
ing  a  calf.  The  process  is  still  worse  if  rain  has  fallen, 
and  the  cattle  have  probably,  for  want  of  time  the  day 
they  were  corralled,  been  shut  up  through  the  night.  As 
they  run  round  and  round  to  avoid  the  man  they  see 
swinging  his  lasso,  the  whole  area  is  churned  into  mud. 
The  animals  dragged  up  get  covered  with  filth,  which  is 
passed  on  to  the  men  at  work. 

There  is  a  certain  excitement  about  the  business. 
The  cowboys  will  work  at  it  very  hard  and  through  long 
hours.  The  boss  is  a  great  sight,  and  never  tires,  run 
ning  backward  and  forward  between  the  fire  and  the 
struggling  calves.  Each  time  he  slaps  on  the  brand  he 


BRANDING    CATTLE.  4OJ 

seals  a  bit  of  property  worth  $10  to  $15.  He  would  Hke 
to  work  at  this  all  day  long.  If  the  corral  is  very  large 
the  ropes  are  thrown  by  a  man  on  horseback.  So  soon 
as  a  calf  is  caught  he  takes  a  turn  with  the  end  of  the 
rope  around  the  horn  of  his  saddle,  and  the  horse  drags 
the  animal  to  the  right  spot. 

A  cow  accustomed  to  men  on  horseback  will  some 
times  run  after  her  calf  with  her  nose  stretched  down 
toward  it — no  doubt  inquiring  the  nature  of  its  trouble, 
with  probably  a  "What  can  I  do  for  you?"  But  when 
she  nears  the  men  on  foot  the  cow  stops,  and  leaves  the 
calf  to  its  fate. 

If  branding  is  done  in  the  open,  one  man  holds  the 
bunch  together,  and  the  lassoist  picks  out  the  unbranded 
calves  and  drags  them  off  to  the  fire. 


Branding    Cattle. 

If  large  cattle  have  to  be  branded  you  can  not  expect 
to  do  any  thing  without  horses.  The  lasso  should  be 
thrown  over  the  horns  only.  Three  or  four  men  are 
required  to  hold  the  animal  after  it  is  down.  When  it 
comes  to  an  old  bull,  and  he  declines  to  be  maltreated, 
he  has  his  own  way.  A  couple  of  ropes  thrown  over  his 
horns  and  tied  to  a  post  he  snaps  like  a  pack  thread.  A 
brand  can  be  put  on  him  by  a  man  jn  horseback  with  a 


BRANDING   CATTLE. 

hot  iron  in  his  hand,  following  the  bull  into  the  thick  of 
the  herd.  Jammed  in  the  corner  of  the  corral,  the  bull 
ran  move  but  slowly,  and  there  is  time  to  press  the 
brand,  and  to  leave  a  mark.  Throwing  the  big  cattle 
does  them  no  good.  For  all  purposes  it  would  be  a  bet 
ter  plan  to  arrange  the  corrals  with  pens  and  shoots  for 
both  separating  the  different  brands  and  for  doing  the 
necessary  cutting,  branding,  etc. 

One  man  should  be  able  to  catch,  throw  and  brand  a 
cow  on  the  plain,  but  even  with  two  or  three  men  the 
object  is  not  always  accomplished  very  speedily.  Should 
one  man  dismount,  the  enraged  cow  makes  for  him.  If 
the  rope  is  held  tight  there  is  no  danger  outside  the  ring, 
but  sometimes  the'rope  breaks,  or  in  the  charging  and 
shifting  the  man  on  foot  may  get  between  the  animal 
and  the  horse.  The  cow  will  make  a  rush,  and  the  man 
is  lucky  if  he  can  escape  a  tumble  and  a  kick. 

When  the  cattle  in  one  place  have  been  settled  with, 
the  round-up  moves  on.  The  camp  is  broken  up,  the 
wagons  packed,  and  a  string  of  four-horse  teams  makes 
a  start. 

The  cowboys,  with  their  schaps — that  is,  leather 
leggings  and  flopping,  wide-brimmed  hats — are  trooping 
off  in  different  directions,  puffing  their  cigarets  and  dis 
cussing  the  merits  of  their  mounts. 

On  both  sides  moving  clouds  of  dust  half  conceal  a 
mob  of  trotting  horses,  which  are  the  spare  animals  that 


THE  COYOTE'S  GLEANING.  40$ 

are  being  taken  along  to  the  next  halting  station,  where 
similar  scenes  are  again  enacted. 

Soon  the  place  which  was  lively  with  bustle  is  left 
deserted,  marked  only  by  the  grass  trampled  down  and 
the  heaps  of  dirt  around  the  old  camp. 

The  coyote  will  sneak  in  and  have  his  pickings  on  the 
offal,  scraps  of  leather  and  ends  of  lariat.  Then  all  will 
be  quiet  until  the  Autumn  round-up,  or  even  until  the 
n«xt  Spring. 


CHAPTER   IV. 

ON   THE   TRAIL — NIGHT   WATCHING — SHIPPING     BY    RAIL-- 
JOURNEY   TO    CHICAGO. 

After  the  calves,  the  fat  cattle  have  to  be  separated 
from  the  herd  and  driven  off  in  the  direction  of  the  rail 
way.  This  drive  may  occupy  one  or  two  months,  and  it 
must  be  done  with  deliberation  and  quietness. 

The  seed-bearing  grasses  are  very  fattening,  and  the 
tendency  of  all  the  cattle  is  to  grow  rounder  and  sleeker 
till  late  in  the  Autumn.  This  condition  is  natural  and 
very  necessary  to  enable  them  to  live  through  the  Win 
ter.  The  steers,  mostly  three  and  four  years  old,  having 
been  collected  into  a  band,  are  moved  slowly  from  day 
to  day,  care  being  taken  that  they  cross  plenty  of  grass 
and  water. 

At  first  they  are  wild,  and  even  the  men  on  horseback 
have  to  hold  back  a  little  distance*  showing  themselves 


ON  THE  TRAIL.  4°7 

just  enough  to  keep  the  herd  headed  in  the  right  direc 
tion.  All  galloping  and  shouting  are  discouraged,  for 
nothing  must  be  allowed  to  startle  the  steers.  A  man  on 
foot  would  possibly  drive  the  whole  herd  off  into  a  mad 
stampede. 

A  few  old  bulls  that  are  past  work  are  often  included 
in  the  bunch  of  fat  cattle.  A  low  price  per  pound  is 
paid  for  them  in  Chicago,  but  they  weigh  heavily.  On 
the  trail  they  are  useful  as  setting  an  example  of  steadi 
ness.  If  the  steers  are  kindly  handled  and  never  over 
driven — being  young,  fat  and  frisky — they  are  ready  to 
romp.  Should  they  stampede,  the  bulls — heavy  and  old 
and  not  easily  scared — hang  back  and  look  about  for  the 
cause  of  the  run.  They  will  stop,  and  the  steers  near 
them  will  follow  suit. 

The  cattle  of  the  northern  territories  have  the  char 
acter  of  being  easi1]'  stampeded,  but  they  seldom  run 
far.  On  the  other  hand,  the  Texan  cattle  go  for  miles. 

One  or  two  men  must  be  continually  in  advance  to 
drive  off  the  range  cattle,  which  might  otherwise  mix 
themselves  with  the  steers,  and  give  much  trouble  in 
cutting  them  out. 

On  the  actual  journey  the  herd  is  encouraged  to 
string  out.  The  leaders  find  their  place  every  day,  and 
it  is  only  necessary  to  keep  them  along  the  right  trail. 
A  boy  on  either  side  and  two  at  the  end  to  work  up  the 
stragglers  are  sufficient,  though  the  line  may  be  over  a 


40S  NIGHT  WATCHING. 

half-mile  long.  When  halted  to  feed,  the  herd  should 
be  surrounded,  half  the  men  doing  this  work  in  turns, 
the  other  half  getting  dinner — if  in  luck's  way.  But  as 
it  is  necessary,  both  for  food  and  to  avoid  disturbance, 
to  take  the  cattle  by  the  most  unfrequented  routes,  the 
wagon  may  have  ten  miles  to  go  around  in  addition  to 
the  march  of  the  herd.  In  these  cases  breakfast  must 
last  until  supper  time,  except  the  snack  which  the  boys 
carry  with  them. 

Night    Watching. 

It  is  important  that  the  herd  should  never  be  left  un- 
watched.  When  at  night  it  is  thought  time,  they  are 
driven  onto  a  bedding  ground  and  bunched  up.  So  soon 
as  they  have  steadied  down,  one  or  two  men  are  left  on 
watch,  whose  duty  it  is  to  ride  round  and  round  the  herd 
and  prevent  any  straying.  If  the  weather  is  not  too 
cold,  the  night  watch  not  too  long  and  the  cattle  behave 
well,  this  is  not  disagreeable  work. 

The  cool  air  is  refreshing  after  the  long  day's  heat 
and  glare.  You  walk  your  horse  at  a  little  distance  from 
the  cows,  with  an  occasional  short  scamper  after  some 
rebels.  You  must,  however,  keep  moving,  and  show 
yourself  constantly  on  all  sides. 

To  hear  the  human  voice  seems  to  quiet  the  cattle, 
and  the  man  on  watch  will  often  sing  or  call  quietly. 


NIGHT   WATCHING. 

One  by  one  the  animals  lie  down.  You  hear  a  great 
puff,  as  if  all  the  wind  was  let  out  of  a  big  air  cushion. 
It  is  a  steer  settling  down  onto  his  side.  More  puffs — 
the  shadows  sink  low — and  at  last  there  is  none  to  be 
seen  standing. 

The  quiet  of  all  these  huge  animals  is  impressive, 
and  seems  in  keeping  with  the  sleeping  earth  and  calm 
sky.  The  voices  of  the  men  in  camp  hardly  reach  you. 
A  flicker  from  the  fire  catches  the  higher  part  of  the 
wagon,  and  just  marks  its  position. 

Provided  nothing  extraneous  disturbs  the  peace,  the 
cattle  will  lie  still  up  to  n  or  12  o'clock  at  night,  while 
you  circle  in  the  darkness  around  the  black  patch  on  the 
ground,  keeping  a  sharp  lookout  for  any  shadowy  object 
sneaking  off  in  the  gloom,  and  often  riding  to  investigate 
a  suspicious  object,  which  turns  out  to  be  only  a  bush. 

Before  midnight,  under  some  special  ordinance  of 
Nature,  the  cows  are  restless  and  get  on  their  feet.  A 
few  will  try  to  feed  out.  These  you  must  drive  back 
again.  But  before  that  time,  if  holding  the  first  watch, 
you  have  probably  been  relieved,  and  are  back  in  your 
bed.  Each  man  has  a  horse  saddled  and  picketed  near 
the  camp  all  night,  for  if  any  thing  frightens  the  herd  or 
a  storm  comes  on,  all  hands  must  turn  out  and  mount. 
If  the  cattle  are  really  away,  you  must  be  after  them 
without  delay,  and  so  soon  as  you  can  stop  them  bring 
them  back  to  camp — provided,  always,  you  know  where 


4IO  SHIPPING   BY   RAIL. 

it  is.  Any  one  left  behind  will  make  a  good  bonfire  to 
direct  the  boys,  but  a  dark  night  with  rain  prevents  your 
seeing  far,  and  the  camp  has  often  been  chosen  in  a  shel 
tered  spot,  which  makes  it  more  difficult  to  discern  the 
blaze.  The  main  thing  is  to  keep  the  herd  together, 
whether  still  running  or  halted. 

If  matters  have  been  well  managed,  and  no  serious 
disturbances  have  occurred,  the  herd  makes  up  and  sets 
out  at  daylight.  You  string  them  out  along  the  trail, 
and  take  a  count,  or  see  that  all  the  bulls  and  other  ani 
mals  with  distinguishing  marks  show  up  present  at  the 
roll-call,  and  move  off  on  another  day's  expedition. 


Shipping  by   Rail. 

When  approaching  the  railway  station  at  which  the 
steers  are  to  be  shipped,  three  or  four  days'  notice  will 
secure  you  a  train.  At  the  appointed  time  the  herd  is 
driven  into  the  railway  stock  yard. 

This  is  a  large  inclosure,  with  passages  communicat 
ing  with  pens  which  hold  just  the  number  you  can  cram 
into  a  car.  The  pens  are  placed  at  exactly  the  distance 
apart  of  the  length  of  a  car. 

When  the  business  of  loading  is  commenced  the  pens 
are  filled.  The  steers  are  driven  up  a  chute  and  enter 
the  cars.  The  last  one  or  two  have  to  be  prodded  and 
forced  to  find  themselves  room.  They  should  then  all  be 


SHIPPING   BY   RAIL.  411 

fairly  distributed  throughout,  their  haads  up  and  l«gs 
clear  of  each  other.  A  cow  hanging  its  head  will  get  its 
horns  entangled  in  some  other's  hind  leg,  and  when  the 
head  is  lifted  the  leg  must  come  too.  A  steer  may  often 
be  seen  caught  by  a  hind  foot  over  a  rail  five  feet  above 
the  floor.  This  has  happened  in  trying  to  kick  itself  free 
from  the  horns  of  a  brother  in  difficulty,  and  until  the 
foot  was  pushed  out  there  it  must  have  remained. 

When  all  are  properly  disposed  the  bar  is  dropped, 
the  door  shut,  and  the  next  pen  is  emptied  into  its  car. 
The  top  of  the  palisade  of  the  stock  yard  is  planked,  so 
that  you  can  walk  all  around  and  look  down  onto  the 
cattle.  When  the  last  ones  have  been  cooped  in,  the 
bell  rings  and  the  train  starts. 

On  well  arranged  lines  the  cattle  trains  are  run  as 
fast  as  any,  and  allowed  to  take  precedence  of  most 
other  traffic,  but  every  day  the  train  must  halt,  and  the 
cattle  be  taken  out  for  several  hours  to  feed  and  drink. 

At  most  large  stations  there  are  cattle  pens  with 
water  running  through  them,  and  deep  mangers  all  filled 
with  hay.  At  these  cattle  get  a  chance  to  eat  and  slake 
their  thirst. 

On  first  getting  out  of  their  cars  they  are  more  dis 
posed  to  lie  down  than  to  do  any  thing  else,  for  while 
traveling  they  are  so  crowded  that  they  get  little  rest. 
As  for  lying  down  in  the  car,  that  would  never  do,  and 
during  any  halt  of  the  train  the  boys  accompanying  the 


412  SHIPPING   BY   RAIL. 

herd  must  take  a  look  around,  and,  with  their  poles, 
prod  any  cow  that  is  resting,  and  force  it  to  get  up.  This 
is  done  in  their  best  interests,  for  any  animal  once  down 
can  not  rise,  and  is  almost  sure  to  be  trampled  to  death, 
missing  the  ultimate  glory  of  becoming  beef.  The  car 
casses  of  those  that  die  in  transit  are  thrown  out  at 
sidings  and  are  eaten  by  hogs. 

The  work  of  loading  and  unloading  along  the  journey 
is  very  expeditious.  The  new  experience  of  being  cooped 
up  and  shaken,  or  some  instinct  of  their  impending  fate, 
has  sobered  the  steers.  They  are  no  longer  the  sleek, 
shining,  frisky  inhabitants  of  the  prairie.  Bones  begin 
to  show  ;  their  hides  are  dirty  from  close  quarters  and 
lying  down  in  pens.  They  can  not  eat  food  enough  in 
the  short  time  at  their  disposal,  so  their  sides  flatten  and 
they  walk  in  and  out  of  their  cars  with  the  utmost  docil 
ity  and  dejection. 

Twenty  minutes'  time  is  sufficient  to  load  up  a  train 
of  200  or  300  beasts.  Each  day  of  a  journey  the  right 
number  files  into  the  car  with  less  squeezing. 

Delays  are  annoying  to  the  owner,  who  hates  to  see 
his  cattle  shrinking.  Every  pound  of  flesh  lost  is  money 
out  of  pocket,  but  so  long  as  Chicago  is  the  main  market 
for  cattle  they  must  travel  six  or  seven  days  by  rail  from 
the  railway  point  nearest  to  their  range. 


EN  ROUTE  TO  THE  ABATTOIR.          4IJ 


The  Journey  to   Chicago. 

The  railway  journey  is  as  uncomfortable  as  it  can  be 
to  the  men  accompanying  the  herd.  The  only  accom 
modation  is  the  caboose,  which  is  often  quite  crowded  by 
railway  working  people  and  travelers  by  favor  of  the 
conductor.  The  employes  of  the  railway  are  often  dis 
obliging,  and  the  mere  fact  of  the  cowboys  being  of  sec 
ondary  consideration  to  their  charges  makes  the  trip  a 
disagreeable  one. 

The  night  is  no  time  for  sleep.  At  each  halt  you 
must  jump  out — one  man  with  a  lantern,  both  with 
goads — walk  along  the  rough  ballast,  and  peer  into  each 
car  to  discover  a  cow  which  requires  stirring  up.  Having 
found  an  offender  you  poke  her,  prod  her,  twist  her  tail, 
and  do  your  utmost  to  make  her  rise.  In  the  midst  of 
your  efforts  the  bell  rings,  and  the  train  starts.  You 
climb  up  the  side  of  the  car  onto  the  roof,  and  make  the 
best  of  your  way  back  along  the  top  of  the  train  to  the 
rear  car.  This  little  trip  in  the  dark  is  not  one  to  enjoy. 
There  may  be  twenty  cars,  each  forty  feet  long.  Before 
you  have  crossed  two  or  three  the  train  is  going  at  full 
speed.  Only  one  man  has  a  lantern.  You  are  incom 
moded  by  a  heavy  overcoat,  as  the  air  at  night  is  keen. 
The  step  from  car  to  car  requires  no  more  than  a  slight 
spring,  but  it  is  dark,  or,  probably  worse,  the  one  lantern 


414  UNION    STOCK   YARDS. 

is  bothering  your  eyes.  The  rush  through  the  air  makes 
you  unsteady  ;  no  doubt  your  nerves  are  making  your 
knees  feel  weak.  It  is  a  hard  alternative  to  get  back  to 
the  guard's  caboose  or  to  sit  down  in  the  cold  on  the  top 
of  the  train  until  you  reach  a  halting  place.  Having 
tried  both,  it  seems  that  neither  can  be  cheerfully  recom 
mended.  If  you  do  not  climb  onto  the  roof  you  must 
take  your  chance  of  jumping  onto  the  step  of  the  last 
car  as  it  goes  by.  This  would  be  the  reasonable  way  if 
you  were  allowed  to  do  it,  but  as  the  driver  does  not  care 
to  look  back  you  must  consider  whether  you  are  suffi 
ciently  an  acrobat  to  rejoin. 

Having  reached  Chicago,  there  is  an  end  of  the  busi 
ness.  The  cattle  are  turned  into  the  big  stock  yards  and 
sold  on  commission. 

To  visit  these  stock  yards  and  witness  slaughtering 
there  are  an  important  part  of  the  sight-seer's  orthodox 
duties  in  Chicago,  and  need  not  be  mentioned  here. 


CHAPTER  V. 

QUEENS    OF     THE     RANCH — BRIGHT     WOMEN     WHO     MAKE 
STOCK   RAISING    PAY. 

Of  the  women  who  have  had  the  courage  to  make  a 
bold  departure  for  themselves  some  few  have  been  suc 
cessful.  Conspicuous  among  the  rich  women  of  the 
country  is  Mrs.  Bishop  Hiff  Warren,  who  is  credited  with 
being  the  wealthiest  woman  in  Colorado.  She  is  worth 
$lo,  000,000,  and  has  made  it  on  cattle,  with  no  other 
adviser  than  her  own  wit. 

Another  cattle  queen,  who  is  said  to  have  amassed 
about  $l,ooo,ooo,  is  Mrs.  Rogers,  the  wife  of  a  minister 
in  Corpus  Christi,  Texas.  Her  husband  ministers  to  the 
spiritual  wants  of  a  widely  scattered  congregation,  but 
Mrs.  Rogers,  whose  talents  are  of  the  business  order, 
went  into  stock  raising  on  a  small  scale,  experimentally, 
some  years  back.  She  gave  her  personal  attention  to  the 
business  from  the  start,  leaving  very  little  for  the  over- 

U*s> 


416  QUEENS  OF  THE  RANCH, 

seer.  She  bought  for  herself,  sold  for  herself,  knew  how 
her  cattle  were  fed,  learned  to  be  a  fearless  rider,  and 
was  over  the  range  about  as  frequently  as  the  cowboys 
she  employed,  and  more  carefully.  She  enlarged  her 
enterprises  every  season,  and  her  business  is  still  growing 
today. 

Two  rich  widows,  who  have  inherited  ranches  from 
their  husbands,  are  Mrs.  Massey  of  Colorado  and  Mrs. 
Mary  Easterly  of  Nevada.  Mrs.  Massey  went  to  Colo 
rado  as  agent  for  a  life  insurance  company,  married  a 
man  with  150,000  head  of  cattle,  and  it  is  said  she  now 
manages  them  quite  as  well  as  he  did.  Mrs.  Easterly 
has  not  a  large  herd,  but  her  stock  is  of  a  fine  grade, 
and  she  gets  good  prices  for  it.  She  is  worth,  proba 
bly,  $300,000. 

Mrs.  Iliff,  widow  of  John  Iliff,  a  cattle  king,  and 
Mrs.  Meredith,  widow  of  Gen.  Meredith  of  Illinois,  are 
excellent  business  worner^,  and  making  money  on  stock. 

Of  unmarried  women,  there  are  Clara  Dempsey  of 
Nevada  and  Ellen  Callahan  of  newspaper  fame — the 
one  worth  $20,000  and  the  other  less — which  they  have 
earned  from  the  initial  dollar,  and  are  young  women  to 
have  made  so  fair  a  start  in  the  world. 

The  Marquise  de  Mores  enjoys  life  on  the  ranch  with 
her  husband.  She  is  a  good  shot  and  fine  huntswoman. 

The  number  of  women  who  have  gone  West  and 
made  money  is  large,  and  it  grows  every  year. 


CHAPTER   VI. 

CALIFORNIA    AS   A    CATTLE    RAISING     STATE — LAWS- -CON 
CERNING   WATER    RIGHTS. 

California,  after  having  been  one  of  the  best  ranges 
for  stock,  is  by  degrees  turning  everywhere,  except  in 
the  mountains,  into  an  agricultural  State. 

This  of  necessity  follows  from  the  greater  profits  of 
husbandry  and  the  diminishing  profits  of  cattle  farming 
to  men  of  small  capital.  So  soon  as  the  soil  becomes 
valuable  and  the  choicer  portions  are  taken  up  by  indi 
viduals,  the  cattle  are  no  longer  free  to  roam  over  th« 
country,  costing  nothing  for  food.  They  must  be  looked 
after  and  herded,  hay  must  be  put  up  for  their  suste 
nance  in  Winter,  and  a  few  days  in  the  Spring  and 
Autumn  must  be  given  up  by  the  farmer.  His  boys  are 
no  longer  sufficient  for  guarding  his  interests,  nor  for 
keeping  track  of  his  property,  which  are  driven  by  the 
inclosing  of  the  former  pasture  grounds  to  wander  far< 
t'faer  afislcL 


41 S  HALCYON  DAYS  FLOWN. 

In  the  golden  days  of  old,  which  in  California  are 
days  of  memory  and  not  of  tradition,  the  quantity  of 
land  actually  purchased  or  taken  up,  whether  under  the 
laws  or  merely  held  by  a  sort  of  squatter  right,  would  be 
limited  to  an  occasional  ranch  along  the  fertile  valleys  of 
the  big  rivers  and  to  inclosures  of  meadows  where  the 
natural  dampness  of  the  soil  or  primitive  irrigation  gave 
large  quantities  of  hay. 

The  owners  would  let  their  horses  and  cattle  run  at 
perfect  liberty  to  feed  themselves,  and  would  only  round 
them  up  when  it  was  desirable  to  brand  the  young  calves 
and  colts  or  to  pick  out  horses  or  fat  steers  for  the  pur 
pose  of  sending  them  to  market. 

There  are  still  a  few  wide  ranges,  the  property  of 
companies  or  of  individual  millionaires.  The  land  is 
owned,  however,  and  if  not  fenced  is  constantly  ridden 
over  by  the  boys,  who  drive  off  outside  cattle  and  carry 
on  a  perpetual  warfare  with  the  Basque  and  Portuguese 
swners  of  bands  of  sheep  which  have  to  traverse  the 
ranges  on  their  way  to  the  mountains  or  to  the  railroad. 

Those  halcyon  days  of  the  California  stock  raiser  can 
never  return. 

Land  has  grown  exceedingly  in  value.  Water  taken 
out  of  the  rivers  is  led  by  large  canals  over  a  wide  tract 
of  country.  Emigrants  have  crowded  in,  some  purchas 
ing  small  lots  of  twenty-five  to  forty  acres  at  high  prices 
from  the  pioneer  farmers  and  far-seeing  land  speculators, 


CALIFORNIA    LAWS.  419 

who  by  ingenious  manipulation  of  the  land  laws,  backed 
by  the  power  of  ready  money,  succeeded  in  acquiring 
considerable  tracts  at  an  early  date. 


California   Laws. 

So  long  as  a  State  is  but  sparsely  settled,  the  stock 
interest  is  sufficiently  strong  to  make  laws  favoring  that 
industry  ;  but  when  the  numbers  of  farmers  have  in 
creased  the  law  making,  following  the  balance  of  votes, 
is  taken  into  the  new  hands,  and  one  of  their  first  acts 
is  naturally  in  the  direction  of  safeguarding  their  pock 
ets.  Whereas,  before  the  land  owner  had  to  protect  his 
crop  from  the  roaming  herds,  subsequently  the  stock 
raiser  is  held  responsible  for  any  damage  caused  by  his 
cattle,  and  therefore  has  to  look  to  this.  Practically,  it 
is  found  convenient  by  the  farmers  to  protect  themselves, 
and,  either  in  combination  or  singly,  they  soon  begin  to 
inclose  the  land  where  the  more  valuable  crops  are  to  be 
grown,  and  in  the  older  settled  districts  fencing  is  the 
order  of  the  day.  The  cattle  are  thus  shut  out  of  the 
water,  and  they  lose  the  protection  of  the  copses  and 
fringes  of  trees  which  border  the  valley  streams.  They 
leave  the  bottoms  and  range  far  back  in  the  mountains, 
where  they  find  small  springs,  and  put  up  with  the  shel 
ter  of  broken  ground. 

Formerly  timber  was  cheap,  and  it  was  mostly  used 


42O  ALL  AGAINST  THE  STRAN6ER. 

for  fencing,  but  now  barbed  wire  of  different  patterns  is 
more  common. 

The  laws  which  concern  stock,  though  they  differ  in 
the.  various  States  and  Territories,  have  been  in  each 
case  made  by  people  who  know  exactly  what  they  want. 
From  the  local  standpoint  they  are  excellent — that  is, 
they  suit  the  majority  and  benefit  the  framers.  This,  no 
doubt,  appears  the  best  ends  of  justice  to  men  struggling 
for  wealth  in  a  primitive  society.  The  basis  of  equity 
may  be  neglected.  Each  must  look  after  his  own  inter 
ests,  and  if  a  man  does  not  like  the  laws  he  can  move. 

If  the  stock  owners  are  in  power,  they  say  to  the 
small  rancher:  "Fence  your  fields."  If  the  farmers 
preponderate,  they  turn  on  the  stockman  and  say : 
"  Herd  your  cattle."  Meanwhile  all  combine  against  the 
stranger  within  their  bounds. 

Laws  are  useful  to  those  who  command  the  market, 
and  who  can  thereby  profit  themselves  or  frustrate  the 
commercial  competition  of  outsiders.  At  least,  such  is 
the  hearsay  evidence  of  the  inhabitants  and  one  of  the 
leading  topics  of  their  newspapers.  It  is  a  common 
saying  that  the  rich  man  may  secure  a  verdict. 

With  all  this  fencing  and  irrigation  the  lawyers  in 
California  have  their  hands  full  of  work,  with  a  harvest 
which  lasts  all  the  year  round. 


LAW  FAVORS  THE  LONG  PURSE.         421 

Water   Rights. 

The  ranchers  living  farther  down  a  river  find  the  vol 
ume  of  water  on  which  their  crops  and  stock  depend 
gradually  diminishing  as  the  upper  reaches  are  settled 
and  new  canals  are  laid  out.  Suddenly,  in  some  par 
ticularly  dry  year,  there  is  no  water  at  all  in  the  lower 
channel  of  the  river,  and  the  crops  suffer  and  the  cattle 

must  be  driven  to  the  hills. 
A 

In  the  old  days  the  injured  party  was  apt  to  set  out 
with  his  shotgun  and  argue  the  matter  in  person.  Now 
the  majesty  of  the  law  favors  the  long  purse,  and  the 
man  who  wins  his  case  recovers  just  enough  to  pay  his 
lawyer. 

There  is  no  more  fruitful  source  of  litigation  than 
water  rights,  and  in  purchasing  land  the  buyer  must  be 
extremely  careful  to  know  that  his  title  to  water,  and  to 
a  fixed  quantity  thereof,  is  undoubted  ;  otherwise,  he 
may  be  called  upon  by  his  neighbors  to  join  in  a  lawsuit 
to  protect  their  common  rights,  or  perhaps  find  that  he 
has  bought  the  privilege  to  fight  single-handed  a  large 
owner  who  has  strong  influence  in  the  courts  and  is  pre 
pared  to  appeal  as  a  pure  matter  of  business. 


CHAPTER  VII. 

SHOWING   PROFITS   ON    CATTLE    RAISING   IN  TEXAS,  AS  THE 
BUSINESS   WAS    FORMERLY   CONDUCTED. 

As  the  cattle  business  was  conducted  many  years  ago 
the  cost  of  raising  cattle  was  but  a  trifle. 

To  start  in  business,  it  was  only  necessary  to  have  a 
good  pony  and  a  couple  of  men  experienced  with  the 
lasso  to  catch  mavericks  and  brand  them,  the  cost  being 
about  50  cents  per  head. 

These  cattle  would  run  at  large,  feeding  on  govern 
ment  pastures,  and  would  be  rounded  but  once  a  year. 
The  owner  then  branded  all  calves  following  the  cows. 
This  brand  was  registered  at  the  county  seat,  and  all  the 
cattle  bearing  it  were  recognized  property  of  the  owner 
of  the  brand. 

The  natural  increase  of  stock  is  so  great  that  in  a  few 
years  a  daring  and  adventurous  man  would  have  a  large 

(4*4 


PROFITS  IN  CATTLE  RAISING. 

herd  arising  from  the  capital  shown  in  the  cost  of  the 
brand  and  the  wages  of  a  few  men. 

In  after  years  the  Eastern  capitalists  began  to  em 
bark  in  the  cattle  business.  They  bought  these  registered 
brands,  figuring  five  head  of  cattle  to  every  calf  branded 
at  the  last  round-up.  The  price  usually  paid  for  this 
stock  averaged  $10  per  head,  so  $9. 50  per  head  profit 
was  realized.  Some  of  these  herds  had  increased  to 
50,000  head. 

Many  of  the  cattle  kings  of  Texas  started  in  this 
way,  and  still  hold  their  stock,  and  are  now  the  million 
aires  of  Texas. 

But  the  days  for  starting  in  the  cattle  business  in  this 
simple  fashion  are  now  past. 

The  Eastern  capitalist,  though  termed  ' '  tenderfoot " 
in  this  section,  is  very  wary  of  how  he  invests,  and  pre 
fers  to  see  the  cattle  rounded  up  and  counted  before  he 
parts  with  his  money. 


CHAPTER  VIII. 


THE   PROFITS   ON   CATTLE     RAISING     AS    THE    BUSINESS   IS 
AT    PRESENT    CONDUCTED. 

The  cost  of  raising  cattle  at  the  present  time  is  more 
than  in  olden  times.  More  attention  is  given  to  provid 
ing  them  with  shelter  in  the  Winter  months  and  furnish 
ing  them  with  hay. 

Yet  the  stock  matures  better  and  is  of  more  value 
because  of  this  care  and  attention,  so  the  stockman  is 
fully  compensated  in  the  additional  price  that  his  stock 
will  bring  in  the  markets.  The  average  cost  of  raising 
three-year-old  cattle  in  large  numbers  is  about  $4.50  per 
head.  This  stock  may  be  marketed  in  Chicago  at  an 
additional  cost  of  $6  per  head,  making  the  cost,  laid 
down  in  Chicago,  $10.50  per  head. 

The  average  weight  of  Texas  cattle  sold  on  the  Chi- 

(424) 


PROFITS   IN    CATTLE   RAISING.  425 

cago  market  is  about  900  pounds,  and  the  average  price 
is  about  $3  per  hundred,  leaving  a  net  profit  to  ranch 
men  of  $16.  50  per  head. 

Another  way  of  making  money  in  the  cattle  business 
by  those  who  are  familiar  with  the  "  ropes"  and  market 
in  Chicago  is  to  purchase  droves  of  fat  cattle  from  the 
ranchmen  and  ship  to  Chicago.  One  who  understands 
his  business  and  is  a  judge  of  stock  may  make  on  a  fair 
market  in  Chicago  $6  per  head  in  this  way. 

The  popular  and  surest  way  of  succeeding  in  the  cat 
tle  business  is  to  locate  a  ranch  near  a  good  water  right 
and  start  in  the  business  yourself.  For  instance,  one  may 
purchase  loo  cows,  and  the  increase  from  this  stock  in 
ten  years  would  amount  to  2,  500  head.  This  stock  could 
all  be  marketed  in  Chicago  in  thirteen  years.  It  wil/ 
cost  the  ranchman  $4  per  head  there  on  the  ranch,  oi 
$lO,ooo.  It  will  cost  him  $6  per  head  to  ship  to  the 
Chicago  market,  allowing  3  per  cent  for  loss,  which  will 
make  the  gross  cost  to  him,  laid  down  in  Chicago.  $lo 
per  head,  or  $25,000  for  the  bunch  of  2,500. 

These  cattle  would  bring,  at  the  present  low  rates  in 
Chicago,  $3  per  hundred,  or  $2 7  per  head,  making,  after 
deducting  cost  and  expense,  a  grand  total  of  $67, 500. 
The  ranchman's  net  profit  would  be  $42, 500. 

These  figures  show  what  can  be  done  in  ten  years, 
with  a  start  of  only  loo  head  of  cattle.  The  ranchman 
will  have,  in  addition  to  this — as  it  will  require  thirteen 


426  AVERAGE   PROSPECTS. 

years  to  market  the  same — the  increase  of  the  last  three 
years. 

These  figures  are  based  on  the  present  depressed  con 
dition  of  the  cattle  markets  of  the  world,  which  is  hot 
likely  to  continue  always. 

A  war  of  magnitude  in  Europe  would  increase  prices 
of  stock,  and  would  have  its  effect  on  stock  and  beef 
sooner  than  on  any  other  commodity,  with  the  possible 
exception  of  pork. 

In  that  case  the  value  of  these  cattle  would  be  not 
less  than  50  per  cent  greater  than  estimated. 

It  is  proper  in  any  business  to  consider  the  average 
prospects  for  and  against  the  chances  of  success. 

Besides,  the  ratio  of  increase  of  the  world's  popula 
tion  is  greater  than  the  increase  of  cattle,  as  pasturage 
is  growing  less  by  reason  of  the  plow.  All  these  causes 
will  tend  ultimately  to  advance  the  price  of  beef  and 
improve  the  chances  of  success. 


CHAPTER   IX. 

ADVICE   TO   COWBOYS — WAGES   PAID   TO   THEM    AND   THEIR 
NECESSARY    EXPENSES    OF   OUTFIT. 

Wages  received  on  The  Plains  in  the  capacity  of  a 
cowboy  vary  from  $15  to  $60  per  month,  according  to 
experience  and  the  section  of  country  in  which  employ 
ment  is  sought. 

The  farther  North  you  go  the  better  the  wages,  but 
the  expense  of  living  is  greater,  as  the  clothing  must  be 
heavier,  and  other  expenses  are  greater  than  they  are  in 
the  Southern  country. 

Formerly  it  was  the  habit  of  the  cowboy  to  spend 
from  $300  to  $500  in  an  outfit  for  himself.  For  exam 
ple,  a  $loo  saddle,  a  $75  revolver,  a  $25  silver-mounted 
hat,  expensive  belts  and  sometimes  as  much  as  $25  for 

a  horse. 

(427) 


428  ADVICE   TO  COWBOYS. 

But  the  cowboy  has  learned  that  it  is  better  for  him 
to  save  his  money,  and  start  with  an  outfit  costing  not 
to  exceed  $loo,  never  forgetting .  that  part  of  this  money 
should  be  expended  for  a  good  revolver,  as  this  weapon 
certainly  commands  respect  on  The  Plains. 

If  you  are  industrious  and  watchful  of  the  interests 
of  the  man  for  whom  you  are  working,  you  will  soon  be 
getting  better  wages  and  be  given  an  opportunity  of  in 
vesting  your  savings  in  cattle. 

The  owner  of  the  drove  will  allow  your  cattle  to  run 
with  his.  Possibly  he  may  charge  you  $1  per  head  per 
annum  for  this  privilege. 

At  the  low  prices  for  which  cattle  can  be  purchased, 
if  you  pave  your  wages  and  do  not  spend  your  money  for 
whisky,  gambling  or  sprees  of  any  kind,  you  will  soon 
have  quite  a  herd  of  cattle  of  your  own. 

In  a  few  years,  if  you  maintain  your  habits  of  sobri' 
ety,  economy  and  thrift,  you  will  have  a  competence. 


SHEEP. 


CHAPTER   X. 


•JHEEP  DRIVING — SPANISH  MERINOS — PROCURE  CERTIFI 
CATE  FOR  TAXES — THE  OUTFIT — TAKING  THE  HORSES 
THROUGH  MOUNTAINS HIRING  DRIVERS. 

Texas  has  lately  been  a  good  outlet  for  some  of  the 
surplus  stock  of  California.  Young  sheep  have  been 
bought  and  sent  by  rail  half  way,  and  afterward  driven 
into  that  State. 

For  many  years  previously  large  bands  have  left  both 
the  northern  and  southern  parts  of  California  for  the 
newly  settled  States  of  Colorado,  Wyoming  and  Mon 
tana.  The  numbers  run  up  to  many  hundreds  of  thou 
sands  each  year. 

The  bands  start  from  every  county,  but  generally 
cross  the  Sierra  Nevada  over  three  main  passes.  The 
pass  north  of  the  Central  Pacific  Railway  is  the  outlet 

(429) 


43O  SHEEP    DRIVING. 

for  sheep  from  the  Sacramento  Valley.  Southeast  of 
San  Francisco  the  sheep  cross  a  little  to  the  north  of  the 
Yosemite.  Those  from  the  direction  of  Los  Angeles 
torn  the  lower  end  of  the  range,  and,  taking  a  north 
ward  direction,  subsequently  join  the  second  route.  The 
second  trail  joins  the  first  near  the  head  waters  of  the 
HumboMt  River.  From  here  the  trail  crosses  a  corner 
of  Idaho  and  Utah,  and  then  splits.  One  road  leads 
north  into  the  western  portion  of  Montana  and  the  other 
goes  east  into  Wyoming  and  Colorado. 

If  rain  does  not  fall,  the  sparse  grazing  to  be  picked 
up  in  ordinary  years  along  the  road,  on  which  animals 
must  depend  while  traveling,  has  totally  disappeared 
after  the  passage  of  a  few  herds.  There  is  naught  but 
dust,  under  which  sheep  for  a  time  will  continue  to  find 
scraps  and  pickings,  though  not  a  blade  is  observable  to 
the  human  eye.  This,  of  course,  does  not  last  long. 
To  buy  sheep  in  such  a  season  is  a  mere  lottery.  Rain 
may  fall,  and  then  your  transaction  turns  up  trumps. 
Rain  may  hold  off,  and  then  your  sheep,  unless  singu 
larly  well  managed,  will  weaken.  Once  they  begin  dying, 
they  depart  by  hundreds. 

Spanish  Merinos. 

The  better  bred  sheep  have  been  mostly  improved 
with  Spanish  merinos,  They  are  small  sized  sheep,  but 


CERTIFICATE   FOR   TAXES.  43 1 

carry  a  heavy  fleece.  They  are  thought  more  hardy  than 
French  merinos  and  are  close  feeders,  finding  something 
to  eat  on  the  most  barren  looking  plains. 

Certificate  for  Taxes. 

Before  starting,  have  the  man  of  whom  you  purchase 
procure  two  certificates  that  the  taxes  for  the  year  have 
been  paid  on  them.  These  certificates  should  come  from 
the  county  office.  They  are  the  most  informal  docu 
ments,  merely  stating  that  Mr.  John  Doe  or  Richard 
Roe  has  paid  his  taxes  for  the  current  year. 

Nothing  is  added  to  say  that  the  sheep  taxed  are  the 
same  which  are  now  your  property,  or  that  they  bore  a 
particular  mark.  Often  they  are  not  dated. 

I  will,  however,  speak  well  of  them,  for  I  was  once 
called  on  to  show  my  tax  receipts,  and  after  some  very 
proper  objections  to  the  informality  of  the  documents 
they  were  allowed  to  pass. 

People  moving  from  one  neighborhood  to  another 
should  carry  their  tax  receipts  along  with  them,  as  they 
are  liable  to  be  stopped,  wherever  there  is  a  collector, 
and  asked  to  show  cause  why  they  should  not  pay  the 
county  taxes  on  the  value  of  their  horses,  wagon,  and 
outfit,  and  also  something  in  the  shape  of  poll  tax  upon 
each  individual  for  the  construction  and  improvement  of 
roads  throughout  that  particular  county. 


432  FLIMSY   WAGONS — RECKLESS   DRIVERS. 


The    Outfit. 

Besides  the  sheep,  it  is  necessary  to  get  an  outfit. 
This  ordinarily  consists  of  a  wagon  and  pair  of  horses, 
two  riding  ponies,  cooking  and  eating  utensils,  saddles, 
harness,  a  few  tools  and  a  stock  of  food  to  start  with. 

When  the  boys  shall  have  thrown  their  bedding  and 
bags  in  the  wagon,  the  whole  will  make  a  solid  load  for 
the  team. 

The  wagons  all  over  the  West  are  imported.  They 
are  very  much  alike,  regardless  of  the  makers,  and  vary 
mainly  in  diameter  of  wheels  and  size  of  axles.  The 
driver's  seat  has  a  pair  of  springs  and  hooks  onto  the 
sides  of  the  wagon  box.  The  body  is  painted  green  and 
the  wheels  and  working  parts  red. 

You  will  see  them  in  dozens  at  most  railway  stations, 
lying  in  parts. ,  They  are  quickly  put  together. 

There  is  a  large  demand  for  these  wagons.  They  are 
much  lighter  than  the  ordinary  English  farm  wagon,  but 
they  are  weak  and  do  not  last.  Their  early  break-down 
is  due  to  the  hastily  dried  wood  of  which  they  are  made. 
The  usage  they  receive  is  rough.  They  are  frequently 
loaded  far  beyond  the  maximum  which  even  the  makers 
will  guarantee,  and  are  rattled  along  with  four  horses  by 
a  reckless  young  fellow,  who  cares  not  for  his  employer'? 


THROUGH  THE  MOUNTAINS.  433 

property  nor  his  own  neck,  over  a  nominal  road  full  of 
ruts,  washouts  and  boulders. 

But  our  lad  has  driven  from  the  time  he  could  hold 
the  reins,  and  he  is  at  home  on  the  box.  Perched  up 
there,  with  one  foot  dangling  over  the  side  and  resting 
on  the  handle  of  the  brake,  he  sends  the  team  along. 

The  wagon  leaps  and  swings  and  sidles,  steered  as 
well  as  may  be  past  the  big  boulders  and  then  checked 
through  the  washouts  by  a  heavy  pressure  on  the  brake. 

The  journey  is  lively,  and  the  driver  has  quite  a  time 
in  recovering  his  seat  when  thrown  out  by  a  jolt  or  slid 
to  the  farther  end  by  the  sway  in  turning  a  corner  or  in 
changing  his  ruts. 

This  is  something  like  driving,  and  as  a  science  is  far 
ahead  of  any  skill  called  into  play  in  the  jog-trot  travel 
along  our  hum-drum  and  excellent  roads. 


Taking  Horses  Through  the  Mountains. 

There  is  a  heavy  expense  in  taking  horses  through 
the  mountains,  for  not  only  is  barley  expensive,  but,  as 
there  is  little  grazing,  hay  has  to  be  freighted  out  to  the 
different  points,  and  varies  from  1^  to  3j  cents  a  pound. 
When  it  comes  to  feeding  big  horses,  thirty  or  forty 
pounds  do  not  go  far. 

I  receive  a  letter  from  my  temporary  foreman,  sent 
by  the  hand  of  a  traveler  who  has  just  crossed,  saying 


434  THE   HIND-END   MESS   BOX. 

that  he  has  hired  a  range,  besides  entering  upon  other 
transactions,  and  asks  for  a  big  sum  of  money.  This  is 
a  serious  matter.  If  I  will  only  give  him  time  he  will,  I 
feel  sure,  like  an  electioneering  agent,  study  my  interests 
by  getting  rid  of  any  amount  of  money  with  the  greatest 
industry.  I  therefore  determine  to  leave  the  wagon  at 
the  foot  of  the  pass,  and  to  ride  over  the  team  horses. 

A  large  sheet  of  canvas,  which  serves  as  a  tilt  to  the 
wagon  in  rainy  weather,  is  eminently  serviceable.  On 
The  Plains,  where  nothing  stands  higher  than  a  bush 
which  hardly  gives  shade  from  the  hot  sun  to  a  dog,  this 
canvas  is  stretched  from  the  wagon  bows  to  pegs  in  the 
ground,  and  gives  a  little  shelter. 

A  mess  box  is  fitted  into  the  hind  end  of  the  wagon. 
It  is  made  with  shelves,  and  holds  a  supply  of  daily 
wants.  The  door  is  hinged  at  the  bottom,  and  when 
lowered  it  is  propped  by  a  stick.  This  makes  a  fairly 
good  table,  on  which  food  can  be  prepared  for  cooking, 
out  of  the  dust.  But  you  eat  your  meals  on  the  ground, 
as  there  is  more  room  for  everybody.  Besides,  at  noon 
you  want  the  shade  of  the  tilt ;  morning  and  night,  the 
light  and  solace  of  the  camp  fire. 

Hiring    Drivers. 

The  important  affair  is  to  hire  men.  Settlers  in  Cali 
fornia  have  come  to  employ  Chinese  labor  almost  wholly 


HIRING   DRIVERS.  435 

for  indoor  work,  and  to  a  great  extent  for  any  outdoor 
work  which  is  continuous — not,  as  one  might  suppose, 
that  there  is  any  economy  therein.  The  Chinaman  is  a 
thoroughly  self-satisfied  being ;  he  considers  his  work 
"  allee  same  like  Melican  man,"  and  lets  you  know  that 
he  is  not  to  be  hired  for  less  than  white  man's  wages.  I 
would  assert  that  Chinese  labor  is  neither  in  quantity  nor 
quality  equal  to  that  of  the  average  European.  All  over 
the  world  the  Chinaman  is  a  copyist.  He  invents  noth 
ing  and  improves  nothing.  His  aim  is  to  produce  a  fac 
simile  ;  he  can  never  excel. 

Notwithstanding  this  inferiority,  he  is  preferred  for 
the  reason  that  he  is  more  to  be  depended  on — mainly  in 
the  matter  of  sobriety.  As  a  household  servant  he  looks 
clean  and  is  fairly  willing,  but  he  is  far  behind  the  class 
of  domestics  in  European  houses  on  the  other  side  of  the 
Pacific. 

Nevertheless,  he  has  a  solid  footing  in  California,  and 
you  find  a  smutty,  yellow-faced  cook  in  small  farm 
houses,  where  elsewhere  in  the  States  the  wife  and 
daughters  do  the  household  work. 

In  choosing  sheep  herders,  the  best  will  be  found 
among  the  Mexicans,  Basques  or  Portuguese.  These 
latter  two  do  not,  as  a  rule,  take  service  except  with  their 
own  people.  Their  aim  is  ultimately  to  possess  a  share 
in  the  herds,  and  to  rise  to  the  position  of  owners. 

The  Mexicans  enter  into  service  willingly  enough,  but 


CALIFORNIA   WAGES. 

they  dislike  to  leave  the  temperate  parts  of  California. 
It  is  a  great  advantage  when  employing  them  to  be  able 
to  talk  Spanish.  They  can  seldom  be  persuaded  to  join 
a  drive  which  takes  them  off  into  unknown  regions,  for 
they  are  profoundly  ignorant  of  the  geography  of  the 
world  beyond  their  districts. 

There  is,  besides,  little  inducement  to  travel  with 
stock  for  good  men,  who  are  sure  of  employment  locally. 
They  have  to  undergo  hard  work,  exposure  and  some 
privation. 

And  for  what  result  ? 

None ! 

Every  cent  a  man  can  earn  above  ordinary  Caliform'a 
wages  will  go  to  pay  his  railway  fare,  even  by  emigrant 
train,  on  his  return  to  California. 

A  herd  of  5,000  sheep  requires  about  six  men,  be 
sides  the  cook — an  important  member  of  the  outfit. 


CHAPTER    XI. 

SHEEP   SHEARING — ON    THE    ROAD    THROUGH    SAN   JOAQUIN 
VALLEY— SCAB — DIPPING. 

In  California  the  sheep  are  shorn  twice  a  year.  It  is 
necessary  to  take  their  wool  off  before  starting.  The 
band  is  driven  out  onto  a  barren  plain,  where  a  few 
tumble-down  open  sheds  guide  you  to  the  shearing  cor 
ral.  The  first  thing  to  do  is  to  go  around  and  rearrange 
panels  and  make  fast  ties  and  block  holes,  so  as  to  keep 
the  sheep  in  the  pens. 

A  mixed  band  of  Mexicans  and  Chinese  do  the  shear 
ing.  Each  man  is  careful  not  to  catch  any  sheep  which, 
on  account  of  size  or  wool,  is  likely  to  prove  slightly 
more  troublesome. 

A  badly  boarded  floor  is  all  the  men  work  upon.  The 
fleeces,  having  been  rolled  up  and  tied,  are  thrown  into 
a  long  bag  hung  on  a  stand,  and  are  filled  in  by  stamp 
ing  on  them.  The  bags  are  then  carried  to  the  railway, 

(437) 


438  ON   THE    ROAD. 

where  they  are  either  sold  to  brokers  or  shipped  to  an 
agent  in  San  Francisco. 


On  the  Road. 

Preliminaries  are  completed  and  the  herd  is  started 
on  the  road,  which  lies  at  first  along  the  railway  running 
through  the  San  Joaquin  Valley.  As  the  land  is  all 
owned,  the  drover  has  no  right  beyond  the  width  of 
sixty  feet.  Where  there  are  no  fences  it  is  futile  to  try 
to  keep  a  large  flock  within  such  narrow  limits.  The 
sheep  will  spread  across  some  200  yards,  and  so  long  as 
they  are  kept  going  it  is  hoped  that  the  land  owners, 
most  of  whom  are  owners  of  sheep  which  have  to  be 
traveled  twice  a  year,  will  not  object.  As  a  rule,  large 
owners  do  not  trouble  traveling  bands  much.  But  a  man 
with  a  small  holding,  whose  land  borders  the  road,  will 
mount  his  horse  on  the  first  sight  of  the  column  of  dust 
which  announces  the  approach  of  a  band  of  sheep,  and 
ride  to  meet  it.  He  is  all  on  the  fight.  First  he  wants 
you  to  go  back,  then  to  go  around,  and  last  to  manage 
the  herd  as  you  might  a  battalion  of  soldiers,  and  march 
them  past  his  grazing  ground  in  a  solid  pack,  on  a  narrow 
strip  of  road.  It  is  a  lucky  day's  travel  in  which  you 
have  not  to  go  through  some  annoyance  and  jaw. 

Each  year  driving  becomes  more  difficult,  grazing  in 
creases  in  value,  the  fields  are  fenced,  and  more  land  is 


SCAB.  439 

broken  up.  It  would  be  difficult  to  take  sheep  on  the 
drive,  close  along  green  crops,  without  their  breaking  into 
them.  Here  troubles  begin  with  the  farmer's  opportu 
nity  of  claiming  compensation.  As  a  matter  in  which  he 
may  have  to  go  to  law,  he  must  exaggerate  the  damage. 
He  can  always  find  neighborly  friends  who  will  swear  to 
his  complaint  and  assess  the  loss  arising  from  a  few  hun 
dred  sheep  crossing  a  corner  of  his  field  at  the  price  of  a 
crop  from  twenty  acres  of  wheat. 


Scab  in  Sheep. 

Before  taking  the  sheep  out  of  the  country  it  is  nec 
essary  to  dip  them  to  check  scab.  The  Californians  are 
not  careful  in  eradicating  this  disease.  I  do  not  know 
of  any  practical  system,  as  in  Australia,  for  dealing  with 
the  malady  or  for  detecting  its  presence  in  certain  flocks 
and  compelling  the  owners  to  effect  a  cure.  Most  own 
ers  dip  their  sheep  at  least  once  a  year,  after  shearing. 
Yet  hardly  in  any  band  you  pass  can  you  omit  noticing 
marks  of  the  disease  on  some  of  the  sheep.  In  some  of 
the  Territories  laws  have  been  passed  and  scab  inspect 
ors  appointed.  The  attention  of  the  latter  is  directed 
mainly  to  overhauling  bands  passing  through.  Provision 
is  generally  made  by  the  county  or  State  to  pay  these 
inspectors  of  sheep  for  detection  of  scab  in  sheep. 


44<>  DIPPING   SHEEP. 


Dipping — How   It  Is  Done, 

The  use  of  a  dipping  station  must  be  procured.  This 
consists  principally  of  a  trough  lined  with  wood,  twenty- 
five  to  thirty  feet  long,  five  feet  deep  and  about  two  or 
three  feet  wide  at  the  top.  This  is  sunk  in  the  ground. 
At  one  end  is  a  shed  roofed  over  to  shelter  the  men  at 
work.  The  floor  is  boarded  and  has  a  slight  slope  to  the 
trough.  At  the  other  end  the  sheep  walk  out  of  the 
trough  by  an  inclined  plank  onto  the  dripping  platform, 
which  is  divided  into  pens.  This  is  also  boarded,  so  that 
the  water  which  runs  out  of  the  fleece  may  fall  back  into 
the  trough,  and  save  material.  At  either  end  is  an  in- 
closure  to  hold  the  sheep  that  are  being  worked.  Iron 
tanks  for  heating  water  stand  conveniently  near,  for  hot 
water  must  be  used  with  some  of  the  scab-curing  ingre 
dients.  The  number  of  sheep  which  can  be  handled  in 
a  morning  are  folded  in  a  large  inclosure.  Then  smaller 
bunches  are  cut  off  and  penned  near  the  shed,  which  will 
hold  thirty  or  forty  sheep.  So  many  are  driven  in  as  to 
crowd  the  place  tightly.  The  gate  is  shut,  and  two  men 
step  in,  standing  near  the  outlet  which  overhangs  the 
trough.  The  sheep  naturally  turn  their  heads  away  and 
press  more  closely  to  the  upper  side.  This  is  just  what 
is  wanted.  The  men  catch  them  one  by  one  by  the  hind 
leg,  with  a  good  pull  and  final  jerk  drag  each  one  toward 


DIPPING    SHEEP.  441 

the  trough,  tur,n  him  around  and  tumble  him,  head  first, 
into  the  fluid.  It  is  rough  work,  but  they  get  through 
the  business  at  a  fair  pace. 

When  properly  done,  the  sheep  souses,  head  first,  in 
the  trough,  and  comes  up  turned  in  the  proper  direction. 
Seeing  the  others  swimming  in  front,  he  follows,  and 
walks  up  the  sloping  plank  onto  the  dripping  platform. 
Sometimes  it  happens  that  a  sheep  will  fall  in  backward, 
and  floats  with  feet  up  in  the  air,  no  doubt  feeling  partic 
ularly  uncomfortable  with  the  composition  of  the  dip — • 
half  chemical  and  turbid  with  grease  and  mud  from  the 
fleeces — filling  his  mouth  and  nostrils.  A  man  stands 
alongside  the  trough,  armed  with  a  long  pole  which  has 
a  crutch  at  one  end.  It  is  his  duty  to  restore  these  acro 
bats  right  side  up,  to  push  the  heads  of  those  not  wetted 
properly  under  water  and  to  keep  the  line  of  bathers 
moving  on.  When  one  compartment  of  the  dripping 
platform  is  full,  a  gate  is  shut,  ,and  while  the  alternate 
pen  is  filling  the  former  lot  of  sheep  stand  and  shake 
themselves,  sneeze,  cough  and  generally  strive  to  recover 
their  mental  equilibrium.  Soon  their  turn  arrives  to  be 
let  out  into  the  larger  inclosure.  Here  they  ought  to 
remain  till  nearly  dry,  as  the  dipping  mixtures  are  more 
or  less  poisonous,  and  should  not  be  scattered  on  the 
feeding  ground,  as  would  happen  from  wet  fleeces. 

The  dip  mostly  used  is  lime  and  sulphur,  which  is 
effective  in  killing  scab,  but  makes  the  wool  brittle.  It 


44%  DIPPING  SHEEP. 

has  the  merit  of  cheapness.  A  decoction  of  tobacco  and 
sulphur  is  also  common.  Both  of  these  have  to  be  used 
with  hot  water,  which  is  a  great  additional  trouble,  as 
the  appliances  at  most  dipping  stations  are  of  the  rudest. 
A  weak  solution  of  carbolic  acid  and  a  patent  Australian 
chemical  are  also  used  for  dipping.  These  can  be  mixed 
in  cold  water.  Some  men  put  their  sheep  through  the 
natural  hot  mineral  waters  which  abound  in  the  West. 
Each  farmer  will  swear  by  his  own  spring.  It  cures  scab 
in  sheep,  removes  corns  and  rheumatism  in  men,  and  is 
of  universal  efficacy.  He  nurses  a  pleasant  dream  that 
some  day  its  virtues  will  be  apparent  to  an  Eastern  capi 
talist,  who  will  develop  it  and  create  an  establishment 
like  the  White  Sulphur  Springs,  with  a  vision  of  shares, 
purchase  money  and  a  snug  monopoly  for  the  rest  of  his 
days. 

About  noon  the  sheep  penned  in  the  morning  are 
through,  and  the  men  knock  off  for  dinner.  Although 
there  are  three  reliefs  in  plunging  the  sheep  into  the  dip, 
the  work  has  been  hard.  The  sun  is  bright  and  hot,  and 
the  air  is  close  inside  the  shed.  The  work  of  driving  the 
sheep  into  compact  bunches  in  the  pens  is  tedious,  and 
when  you  have  jerked  forty  or  fifty  sheep  by  the  hind  leg 
you  find  yourself  winded  and  your  back  aching. 


CHAPTER    XII. 


SHEEP  DRIVING  FROM  CALIFORNIA  TO  SONORA — TOLLS- 
CROSSING  THE  SIERRAS — THE  BEDDING  GROUND — 
THE  SAN  ANTONIO  DESERT. 

After  having  dipped  the  band  they  are  -all  marked 
with  a  brand,  and  next  day  you  start  off. 

Driving  sheep  is  simple  enough — in  theory.  The  herd 
is  marched  from  day  to  day  a  distance  of  eight  or  ten 
miles,  feeding  as  they  go,  starting  very  early  so  as  to 
travel  in  the  cool,  and,  if  possible,  reaching  the  banks  of 
a  stream  before  the  sun  grows  hot.  Through  the  heat 
of  the  day  the  sheep  do  not  care  to  feed  or  to  travel.  If 
full,  they  will  lie  down,  seeking  some  shade,  or  drooping 
their  heads  under  the  shadow  of  each  other's  bodies. 
This  is  called  nooning.  It  may  begin-  as  early  as  8  A.  M. 
in  the  height  of  Summer,  and  last  until  4  or  5  p.  M.  It 
is  a  regular  part  of  the  day's  business,  and  is  often  very 
troublesome,  when  you  have  a  little  distance  yet  to  go, 

(443) 


444  WHEN   THE   SHEEP  BAA. 

to  find  the  sheep  stopping  in  bunches,  some  lying  down 
and  the  whole  baaing  their  protest  against  further  exer 
tion.  If  you  want  to  reach  your  point  now  is  the  critical 
time.  When  the  sheep  baa  shout  at  them  and  hustle 
them  a  bit  with  the  dogs.  Beware  of  a  check,  for  if  the 
flock  once  gets  bunched  up  your  chances  are  over.  You 
may  then  let  the  sheep  lie,  for  they  will  not  travel  again 
until  evening. 

There  is  a  disagreeable  feeling  of  helplessness  when 
handling  sheep.  They  are  the  boss,  and  in  your  own  in 
terest  you  must  study  their  whims. 

Suppose,  however,  your  arrangements  have  been 
good.  You  have  brought  the  sheep  to  water,  and  they 
have  been  pleased  to  approve  the  quality  and  to  drink  at 
once,  without  wandering  off  in  search  of  something 
clearer,  fresher,  warmer  or  different.  It  is  not  always 
we  can  understand  their  fancies.  They  will  feed  again 
for  a  little  while,  after  which  you  may  bunch  them  up 
where  you  can  conveniently  watch  them.  You  will  see 
some  standing  in  a  line,  each  head  under  the  belly  in 
front.  Others  gather  around  a  bush,  with  their  heads 
together  in  the  shade  and  tails  out.  Some  lie  down  to 
sleep,  but  many  stand  with  vacant  eyes,  noses  stretched 
to  the  ground,  and  ease  their  feelings  by  heavy  panting. 

In  the  afternoon,  so  soon  as  the  sheep  show  a  ten 
dency  to  scatter  out  and  feed,  they  are  headed  in  the 
desired  direction,  and  they  travel  slowly  until  nightfall, 


SHEEP    DRIVING.  445 

when  they  are  rounded  up  in  a  bunch  and  expected  to 
sleep.  A  good  driver  will,  as  much  as  possible,  fall  in 
with  the  inclinations  of  the  herd,  and  let  them  start, 
travel  and  feed  as  much  as  they  are  disposed — always,  of 
course,  with  due  regard  to  the  prime  necessity  of  getting 
over  the  ground.  There  are,  besides,  certain  factors  of 
which  the  sheep  can  scarcely  be  expected  to  be  aware 
with  regard  to  the  situation  of  water  and  feed,  and  it  will 
often  be  desirable  to  drive  them  even  a  couple  of  miles 
after  they  show  a  desire  to  noon,  so  as  to  reach  water. 

Sometimes,  to  get  across  a  desert,  you  may  drive  the 
sheep  as  much  as  twenty  miles  a  day,  but  this  has  to  be 
done  at  night  if  the  weather  is  warm,  and  can  seldom  be 
ventured  for  more  than  two  or  three  days. 

Crossing  the  mountains,  the  sheep  are  often  as  much 
as  four  or  five  days  on  the  snow  without  losing  many  of 
the  band.  After  reaching  good  grass  on  the  farther  side 
they  soon  recover  themselves. 

At  night  the  sheep,  if  well  fed,  will  lie  still ;  but  as  a 
rule,  when  traveling,  they  should  be  watched.* 

Leaving  the  main  road  is  not,  on  the  whole,  a  suc 
cess.  The  feed  is  better,  but  on  the  country  road  you 

*A  cruel  necessity  is  disposing  of  the  newly  born  lambs.  New  arriv 
als  are  de  trop,  and  more  likely  to  injure  the  ewes  than  be  of  any  benefit 
themselves.  There  is  nothing  to  be  done  but  to  knock  the  flicker  of  life 
out  of  the  little  things,  and  drive  the  mothers  on.  The  latter  never  make 
any  fuss.  At  all  times  these  merinos  are  careless  parents  during  the  first 
few  days  after  the  birth  of  their  young. 


44  6  OBJECTIVE    POINT — TOLLS. 

are  more  on  your  rights  and  meet  with  fewer  annoyances 
from  small  farmers,  whose  object  often  seems  merely  to 
exhibit  "cussedness, "  though  to  the  credit  of  the  few  it 
must  be  said  that  their  intention  is  elevated  into  the 
region  of  common  sense  by  the  motive  of  extracting  a 
few  dollars. 

At  one  place  you  may  be  amused  by  a  woman  run 
ning  out  of  a  farm  house  and  calling  to  her  husband  : 

"Give  'em  h — 11,  Jack." 

These  are  little  incidents,  but  will  serve  to  illustrate 
the  dislike  which  farmers  have  against  sheep  and.  the 
petty  annoyances  they  are  not  above  putting  in  practice 
on  the  drovers. 

To  see  the  worst  side  of  the  character  of  settlers  in 
California,  I  could  not  suggest  a  better  plan  than  moving 
a  band  of  sheep  through  one  or  two  counties.  After  that 
you  may  try  any  thing  else  and  enjoy  the  change. 

The  objective  point  of  the  drive  is  Sonora,  which 
stands  at  the  west  end  of  the  only  road  over  the  Sierra 
Nevada  Mountains  which  is  passable  by  wagons  in  this 
part  of  California. 

Tolls — Exorbitant   Charges. 

There  are  several  rivers  to  cross,  where  the  only  con 
venient  points  of  crossing  are  farmed  to  some  man  who 
works  a  ferry  and  taxes  sheep  exorbitantly.  The  rates 


HOW  FARMERS   EVADE  TOLLS.  447 

permitted  by  the  charter  often  reach  as  much  as  10  cents 
a  head  for  sheep  and  pigs.  This  the  collectors  reduce  to 
about  3  cents  in  their  printed  rates,  but  are  generally 
satisfied  with  about  half.  Even  these  amounts,  when 
they  recur  three  or  four  times,  together  with  the  road 
tolls,  add  a  heavy  percentage  to  the  original  cost  of 
about  $2  per  head. 

These  annoying  charges  can  only  be  avoided  by  cross 
ing  the  mountains  over  out-of-the-way  and  very  difficult 
passes,  which  are  known  to  but  few  people.  The  farm 
ers  who  have  lived  many  years  near  the  hills  and  have 
sent  their  flocks  up  regularly  hazard  these  passes,  not 
withstanding  the  risk  of  spending  several  days  in  the 
snow,  rather  than  pay  the  heavy  tolls. 

From  Sonora  onward,  except  for  a  few  miles  at  the 
beginning,  the  road  runs  through  the  forest,  and  is  quite 
unfenced. 

This  is  about  the  most  difficult  part  of  the  drive,  on 
account  of  the  loss  from  sheep  straying  into  the  bush. 

Generally  a  few  extra  hands  are  hired,  who  are  often 
Indians.  The  latter  belong  to  the  Digger  tribe,  and  some 
of  them  are  not  averse  to  work,  either  on  the  farm  or  in 
town.  They  are  not  all  equally  civilized,  and  one  of 
their  little  settlements  of  a  few  miserable  hovels,  with 
granaries  of  pine-nuts  in  the  shape  of  bee  hives  four  feet 
high,  enclosed  by  a  poor  fence  made  of  brambles,  cut 
down  and  thrown  into  a  line,  gives  a  notion  of  their  abo- 


44^  CROSSING  THE  SIERRAS. 

riginal  and  miserable  style  of  living.  The  picture  will 
be  completed  by  supposing  an  ancient  and  wrinkled  hag 
sitting  on  a  flat  rock  in  the  grounds,  pounding  the  pine- 
nuts  into  flour,  the  mortar  being  a  hole  in  the  rock. 

For  a  few  marches  out  there  are  corrals,  in  which  the 
sheep  can  be  placed  at  night,  and  out  of  which  they  can 
be  counted  in  the  morning.  This,  however,  takes  so  long 
a  time  that,  as  a  rule,  it  is  done  only  every  second  or 
third  day.  Counting  the  black  sheep  and  those  with 
bells  is  thought  a  sufficient  check  for  intermediate  occa 
sions. 

It  is  quite  possible  for  a  bunch  of  400  or  500  sheep 
to  disappear  out  of  a  band  of  as  many  thousands,  and 
the  ordinary  herder  will  not  notice  their  absence,  even 
in  an  open  country,  where  he  can  see  his  flock  together. 

Crossing  the  Sierras. 

Crossing  the  Sierras,  a  very  small  portion  of  the  band 
travel  on  the  road.  Most  of  the  sheep  are  scrambling 
along  the  hillside  in  a  parallel  direction,  browsing  on  the 
young  shoots  or  wildly  climbing  in  search  of  the  young 
grass. 

With  all  this  bush  to  contend  with,  it  is  hard  work  to 
keep  the  sheep  together,  and  it  is  no  unusual  sight  to  see 
a  band,  as  if  gone  mad,  mounting  higher  and  higher  to 
ward  the  hill-top,  scattered  everywhere  in  groups  of  ten 


CROSSING  THE   SIERRAS.  449 

to  twenty,  striving  to  out-run  or  out-climb  some  bunch 
with  a  slight  advance,  baaing  and  rushing  as  if  quite  dis 
traught,  and  all  because  they  have  come  on  a  patch  of 
wild  leek  or  green  snow  bush,  butter  weed  or  brier. 

Now  is  the  occasion  for  the  shepherds  to  show  their 
activity.  They  must  outpace  the  sheep  in  climbing  the 
hill,  and  strive  to  turn  them  in  fifty  places,  or  they  will 
have  a  small  chance  of  collecting  the  rabble  without  sus 
taining  great  loss. 

In  such  moments  a  dog  is  of  more  use  than  three  men 
— not  only  that  he  gets  more  quickly  over  the  ground, 
but  the  sheep  mind  a  dog,  whereas  they  have  no  fear  of 
the  men. 

When  started  on  one  of  these  escapades,  they  will 
stand  and  dodge  a  herder,  or  turn  only  so  long  as  he  is 
driving  them.  Others  will  sneak  into  the  bushes,  or  hide 
in  some  little  ravine,  while  nature  aids  the  troublesome 
brutes' in  exhausting  the  men,  who  are  often  taken  in  by 
the  appearance  of  rocks  far  above  them,  and  thinking  to 
catch  a  band  of  strays,  do  not  find  out  their  mistake  till 
they  have  had  a  long  climb. 

Toward  evening  the  sheep  follow  well.  It  would  be 
as  difficult  to  separate  them  now  as  in  the  day  time  it 
was  hard  to  bring  them  together. 

No  longer  in  search  of  food,  they  come  down  to  the 
path,  succeeding  each  other  in  endless  line. 

For  a  quarter  of  a  mile  the  road  is  a  solid  mass  of 


4 5<>  THE   BEDDING   GROUND. 

woolly  heads  and  backs,  with  wisps  joining  in  at  inter 
vals  from  out  the  dusk  through  some  gap  in  the  bushes, 
or  down  a  broken  ramp  in  the  bank. 


The  Bedding  Ground. 

A  bedding  ground  has  been  chosen  already,  and  so 
soon  as  the  leaders  reach  the  farther  limit  they  are  all 
stopped.  The  rest  crowd  in,  and  are  made  to  close  up 
their  ranks.  The  men  and  dogs  walk  around  and  check 
the  usual  discontented  ones  who  now  want  to  go  forag 
ing. 

There  is  plenty  of  dead  wood,  and  soon  a  half-dozen 
fires  blaze  at  various  points,  lighting  a  small  portion  of 
the  forest  and  picking  out,  with  a  ruddy  glare,  the  out 
lines  of  the  men  and*pine  trees.  By  and  by  cook  shouts 
4 'Supper!"  One  man  is  left  on  guard,  and  we  gather 
around  the  piece  of  oil-cloth  spread  on  the  ground,  on 
which  are  laid  the  exact  number  of  tin  plates.  After  the 
supper  is  served  the  watch  is  settled  for  the  night.  We 
all  turn  in,  except  the  cook,  who  is  left  washing  up  and 
getting  every  thing  ready  for  the  most  speedy  preparation 
of  breakfast  next  morning. 

After  ten  days'  travel  through  the  mountains,  the 
herders  are  pretty  well  tired  out  by  the  unwonted  exer 
cise  of  chasing  vagrant  and  skittish  yearlings  along  the 
steep  and  rocky  slopes,  or  in  slowly  pushing  their  way  in 


SAN   ANTONIO   DESERT.  45 1 

the  rear  of  a  straggling  bunch  through  a  labyrinth  o{ 
tangled  manzanita  or  bull  brush.  Here  you  have  to  con 
tend  each  step  with  the  tough  branches,  forcing  the  upper 
ones  apart  with  your  arms,  while  you  feel  with  your  feet 
for  some  firm  footing  in  a  mixture  of  low  ground  stems, 
roots  and  loosely  holding  stones. 

It  is  bad  enough  to  work  your  way  down  hill,  but  if 
you  have  to  mount  upward  with  a  band  of  a  hundred 
sheep  to  watch  and  bring  them  back  to  the  road;  to  head 
off  those  which  foolishly  fancy  an  outlet  by  some  small 
clearance  to  one  side  ;  to  keep  the  leaders  in  view  and  in 
the  right  direction  ;  to  persuade  those  lagging  behind  to 
follow  at  all,  you  will  enjoy  no  small  trial  of  your  calf 
muscles,  and  a  moral  victory  if  you  repress  the  bitter 
anathemas  on  the  whole  race  of  sheep. 

Sheep  driving  is  no  dashing  occupation.  It  requires 
endless  patience. 


The  San  Antonio  Desert. 

The  San  Antonio  Desert  can  be  crossed  in  several 
places,  but  nowhere  is  it  less  than  forty  miles  wide,  un 
less  you  skirt  its  upper  end,  to  do  which  you  must  go 
around  the  sink  of  the  Carson  River,  which  adds  to  the 
length  of  the  whole  route. 

It  is  not  a  desert  in  the  sense  of  a  sandy  waste,  for 
much  bunch  grass  grows  in  little  tufts  throughout,  but 


SAN  ANTONIO  DESERT. 

water  there  is  none,  except  in  rare  and  tiny  springs  far 
up  in  the  hills. 

Along  the  road  you  intend  to  travel  there  are  several 
of  these  small  springs,  which  will  suffice  for  the  camp 
and  the  horses.  The  sheep  must  do  without  until  you 
reach  the  farther  side.  For  yourselves,  too,  you  must 
often  carry  water. 

In  this  matter  of  crossing  the  desert,  an  ounce  of  ex 
perience  is  worth  a  ton  of  theory. 

Sheep  should  be  moved  quietly — early  in  the  morning 
and  late  at  night. 


CHAPTER  XIII. 


DRIVING  SHEEP  IN  NEVADA — FOOD  IN  CAMP — THE  COOK'S 

DUTIES SHEEP  DRIVERS'    CLOTHING BATHING — THE 

SHEEP   DRIVER'S    BED — TEMPERATURE — SLEEPING    IN 
CAMP — SHEPHERD  DOGS — PRAIRIE  DOGS. 

It  would  not  be  in  the  least  interesting  to  detail  from 
day  to  day  the  recurring  duties  and  inevitable  annoy 
ances. 

Nevada  is  a  thirsty  land.  The  little  water  which  is 
to  be  found  along  the  road  is  being  monopolized  by  indi 
viduals,  so  that  stock  of  all  sorts — but  more  particularly 
sheep,  which  are  violently  disliked  by  farmers — have  a 
bad  time  when  following  the  Emigrant  Trail. 

Where  there  are  rivers  the  water  is  taken  out  for  irri 
gation,  and  the  approaches  to  the  banks  are  fenced.  On 
some  of  the  down-stream  farms  the  people,  after  the 
Spring  freshets,  must  content  themselves  with  very  little 
water.  The  upper  sluices  may  be  closed  once  a  week  to 

(453) 


454  FOOD   IN    CAMP. 

allow  a  supply  to  run  down  to  them,  which  supply  has  to 
be  ponded,  and  it  then  becomes  unfit  in  a  few  days  for 
most  uses. 


Food   in   Camp. 

The  food  out  in  camp  is  simple  and  coarse.  Nothing 
but  the  wonderfully  pure  air  and  hard  exercise  would 
make  it  palatable  to,  or  digestible  by,  the  ordinary  mor 
tal.  There  is,  however,  no  choice.  Rich  and  poor, 
master  and  m^n,  all  sit  down  to  the  same  provisions, 
fare  alike,  and — enjoy  their  food. 

The  stock  for  camp  consists  of  flour,  baking  powder, 
necessary  but  more  or  less  deleterious,  coffee,  tea,  sugar 
and  bacon. 

With  a  wagon  we  can  afford  to  carry  tins  of  tomato, 
green  corn  and  fruit,  a  bag  each  of  rice  and  beans,  some 
dried  apples  and  peaches  and  a  gallon  of  syrup.  These 
are  luxuries  ;  more  would  be  superfluous. 

The  bacon  serves  the  double  purpose  of  supplying 
the  grease  in  which  to  fry  any  meat  or  fish  that  we  can 
get  on  the  road  and  of  taking  the  place  of  fresh  meats 
when  the  latter  are  unobtainable. 


The  Cook's    Duties. 

The  cook's  chief  qualities  should  be  cleanliness  and 


455 

dispatch.  Skill  comes  third — it  requires  so  little  and  the 
boys  are  so  hungry.  When  the  meat  is  fried  and  the 
coffee  is  boiled,  a  piece  of  oil-cloth  is  stretched  on  the 
ground,  and  the  necessary  number  of  plates,  tin  cups, 
knives,  forks  and  spoons  are  set  out.  The  word  is  given: 
4 'Grub  pile. "  Every  man  washes  his  face  and  hands, 
and,  seizing  his  convert,  he  helps  himself  and  eats.  The 
cook  hands  around  the  coffee. 

After  the  meat  a  clean  place  is  scraped  in  one  corner 
of  the  plate  for  syrup,  fruit  or  pudding,  so  long  as  these 
luxuries  hold  out.  The  boys  are  moderate,  except  when 
any  thing  new  tickles  their  palate.  Then  they  like  to 
finish  it  at  once.  If,  then,  the  wagon  comes  within 
reach  they  ransack  the  mess  box,  and  supplement  three 
hearty  meals  by  an  extra  lunch.  The  cook,  however, 
should  be  a  despot,  and  stand  them  off.  This  raid  up 
sets  his  calculations,  and  may  lead  to  a  second  baking. 
It  is  the  same  with  whisky.  No  self-control  will  prevent 
them  finishing  any  given  quantity  at  best  speed,  though 
it  is  all  theirs,  and  might  easily  last  longer. 


Clothing, 

While  traveling  through  this  parched  and  waterless 
country  your  condition,  as  may  be  guessed,  is  somewhat 
grimy.  Your  outer  clothing  is  made  of  canvas,  which 


456  CLOTHING. 

can  be  bought  in  every  store.  The  overalls  of  the  herd 
ers  are  generally  blue,  worn  either  without  undergar 
ments  or  over  a  pair  of  cloth  trousers  or  red  flannel 
drawers,  according  to  the  state  of  the  weather.  One  or 
two  flannel  shirts,  usually  dark  blue,  with  a  turn-down 
collar  and  some  ornament,  either  lacing  or  buttons,  in 
front,  a  brown  canvas  coat  lined  with  flannel,  a  felt  hat 
with  a  wide  brim,  strong  highlows,  and  a  stick.  There 
is  seldom  any  difference  in  the  men's  working  dress  torn 
the  above.  These  are  the  kind  invariably  provided  for 
the  Western  market,  and  the  woolen  goods  are  worse 
than  inferior.  The  overalls  are  soonest  worn  out  and  to 
be  replaced. 

On  leaving  every  town  some  of  the  boys  will  appear 
in  a  new  pair  of  blue  trousers.  A  light-colored  patch, 
sown  into  the  waist  band  behind,  represents  a  galloping 
horse  as  trade-mark,  and  informs  all  concerned  that  the 
wearer  is,  clothed  in  "Wolf  &  Neuman's  Boss  of  the 
Road,  with  riveted  buttons  and  patent  continuous  fly." 
Then  come  two  figures — say,  36  and  34 — which  refer  to 
the  size  of  waist  and  length  of  leg.  If  short  and  stout, 
you  buy  a  large  man's  size  and  turn  up  the  bottom  of  the 
leg.  If,  on  the  contrary,  32  would  suit  you  for  waist, 
in  a  country  store  you  are  often  compelled  to  take  40,  so 
as  to  secure  the  other  dimension.  An  odd  size,  however, 
leads  to  a  tailoring  in  camp,  which  is  an  unprofitable 
employment.  For  this  reason  most  men  start  with  at 


BATHING.  457 

least  one  extra  pair  of  overalls  to  fit.  The  patch  is  left 
—either  from  idleness  or  as  a  memorandum  of  one's 
measurements. 

For  the  rough  and  rusty  work  of  driving,  whether  on 
horseback  or  on  foot,  these  canvas  suits  are  the  most 
efficient.  They  turn  wind  and  dirt,  and  can  be  washed. 
Where  you  must  follow  stock  in  a  cloud  of  dust  and  have 
the  ground  as  your  only  seat,  woolen  outer  garments 
would  be  objectionable.  In  cold  weather,  therefore,  you 
put  the  canvas  overalls  and  coat  over  the  woolen  ordi 
nary  clothes.  They  make  a  great  difference,  and  help 
immensely  in  keeping  you  warm. 

Bathing. 

Whenever  sufficient  water  can  be  found  and  a  little 
leisure  secured,  it  is  a  great  achievement  to  have  a  bath. 
Dust  is  so  penetrating  that  the  least  said  about  one's 
condition  is  best  said.  It  is  a  great  consolation  that  it  is 
clean  dirt,  for  after  having  washed  thoroughly  a  quarter 
of  an  hour  at  the  tail  of  the  herd  would  blacken  you  as 
before.  In  truth,  the  occupation  is  so  laborious,  the 
hours  so  long  and  the  attention  must  be  so  unremitting 
that  a  bath  is  often  out  of  the  question,  even  after  the 
proper  quantity  of  water  is  found,  for  those  who  have  to 
do  the  work.  The  middle  of  the  day  is  the  only  time 
available,  as  the  drives  are  arranged  for  the  stock  to  get 


A   FESTIVE   DAY. 

water  at  that  time.  The  wagon  generally  gets  ahead  in 
order  to  fill  up  kegs  before  the  stock  come  in  and  tram 
ple  the  stream  into  mud,  which  takes  but  a  few  minutes 
after  they  arrive.  Where  no  provision  is  made  for  the 
men  beforehand,  they  must  go  a  half-mile  to  get  clean 
water.  To  bathe  in  the  evening,  long  after  sunset,  or 
in  the  early  morning,  when  you  should  have  finished 
breakfast  by  sunrise,  is  out  of  the  question.  First,  you 
are  too  tired  ;  second,  it  is  too  cold  among  the  hills,  even 
in  Summer. 

You  are  very  seldom  camped  on  water.  When  by 
good  luck  you  find  yourself  near  a  deep  and  slowly  flow 
ing  stream,  in  which  the  water  is  warmed  a  little  by  the 
sun,  it  is  a  festive  day. 

There  is  generally  feed  on  the  banks.  The  sheep, 
which  prefer  slightly  warm  water  to  a  cold  rivulet,  are 
content  to  stop  around.  You  can  then  go  in  for  real 
luxury — bathe,  change  and  wash  the  clothes  you  remove. 
In  the  evening  you  are  again  as  before — the  bath  but  a 
memory. 

The  natural  result  of  these  circumstances  is  that  the 
boys  seldom  look  to  ablution  beyond  washing  their  faces 
and  hands.  They  are  careful  in  this. 

Barring  dust,  it  is  a  clean  country,  and  there  is  fresh 
air  all  around.  Dirty  men  abound,  and  at  least  one  is 
to  be  found  in  every  outfit ;  but  his  habits  are  sharply 
criticised^  and  sharing  of  bedding  or  clothes  is  cai'elully 


A  DRIVER'S  NIGHT  TOILET.  #59 

avoided.     It  is  fate  that  he  should  be  there.     You  must 
put  up  with  him — at  least,  for  a  time. 

Beds — Rocky  Improvisations. 

The  bedding  consists  of  blankets  or  quilted  counter 
panes.  Your  pillow  is  a  bag  stuffed  with  your  spare 
clothing.  If  possible,  the  whole  should  be  contained  in 
a  sheet  of  extra  stout  canvas,  sufficiently  long  that  it  can 
be  spread  underneath  you,  and  when  brought  over  to 
cover  you  fully.  The  width  must  allow  a  wide  margin, 
being  tucked  under  the  sides.  About  fifteen  feet  by  seven 
answers  well.  At  night  you  spread  your  bed  on  the 
ground,  and  if  the  sides  are  properly  tucked  in,  should 
it  come  on  to  rain  you  draw  the  upper  fly  over  your  head 
and  lie  snug  ;  the  canvas  is  fairly  waterproof.  In  the 
morning  you  turn  the  edges  inward  on  top,  roll  up  the 
bed  and  strap  or  tie  it  tightly.  The  canvas  keeps  the 
bedding  clean  and  dry,  protecting  it  against  dust  and  ob 
jectionable  emigrants,  who  find  themselves  crowded  in 
other  blankets.  Usually  the  boys  sleep  in  pairs,  which 
increases  their  resources  and  saves  weight.  The  bedding 
is  the  most  bulky  part  of  the  load  in  the  wagon.  Your 
night  toilet  consists  in  taking  off  your  coat  and  boots. 
The  coat  you  may  imagine  a  pillow,  and  your  boots  must 
be  tucked  away  safely  to  keep  them  dry  and  beyond  the 
reach  of  coyotes,  which  will  steal  into  camp  at  night  and 


460  TEMPERATURE. 

carry  off  any  thing  made  of  leather.   Without  your  boots 
you  would  be  in  a  very  poor  fix  on  the  prairies. 


Temperature. 

As  in  all  elevated  countries,  the  difference  of  temper 
ature  during  the  day  in  the  sun  from  that  at  night  is  very 
great.  Although  you  may  work  in  a  single  flannel  shirt, 
it  is  proper  to  have  plenty  of  blankets  for  your  bed. 


Sleeping  in  Camp. 

It  is  the  cook's  duty,  after  fetching  camp  in  the  even 
ing,  having  unhitched  the  team,  to  tumble  all  the  beds 
out  of  the  wagon  onto  the  ground.  Each  boy  at  night 
carries  his  bed  to  a  spot  he  likes  and  there  unrolls  it.  He 
is  limited  to  some  definite  direction,  from  which  he  is 
supposed  to  assist  in  guarding  the  sheep.  It  is  not  always 
a  search  which  ends  successfully.  When  you  start  after 
supper  in  the  dark,  carrying  a  heavy  load  of  bedding  for 
the  purpose  of  making  your  bed,  the  ground  may  slope 
and  be  thickly  covered  with  sage  brush.  There  are  hol 
low  and  stony  places,  but  no  level  spot,  even  six  feet  by 
three.  You  are  a  little  out  of  breath  with  the  weight  on 
your  shoulders.  It  leans  against  your  head,  which  you 
hold  sideways.  You  can  not  see  clearly,  and  stumble 
against  bushes  or  trip  over  stumps  in  the  dark.  You  drop 


SLEEPING   IN  CAMP.  46! 

your  bed  carelessly  with  a  flop,  and — up  jump  the  sheep. 
Having  jumped  up,  they  begin  to  stray  from  their  bed 
ground  in  search  of  feed.  Your  first  business  must  now 
be  to  drive  them  back  and  watch  them  till  they  lie  down 
and  are  still  again.  You  may  then  return  to  your  bed, 

i 

and  after  spreading  it  out  as  much  as  can  be  done  in  a 
narrow  space  between  the  bushes,  you  pull  off  your 
boots  and  creep  inside  the  blankets. 

But  where  is  comfort  ?  A  root  stump  is  under  the 
very  middle  of  your  bed — invisible  to  your  eyes  in  the 
dust,  but  prominent  to  your  present  feelings.  It  is,  how 
ever,  a  very  aggressive  stump  that  makes  you  shift  your 
quarters.  You  are  far  too  tired  to  mind  a  little  bullying. 
If  by  means  of  bending  yourself  into  a  C  or  an  S  curve 
you  can  avoid  the  knotty  point  it  is  good  enough ;  at  any 
rate,  you  will  not  move. 

Granted  that  your  expectations  are  accomplished ; 
suppose  the  sheep  have  fed  and  drunk  well  during  the 
day,  and  therefore  are  not  inclined  to  move  that  night ; 
say  that  there  is  no  wind  storm  to  disturb  you  and  the 
plaintive  coyote  is  dumb — then  the  hours  pass  away  too 
quickly.  You  wake  in  the  dull  gray  light  of  day-break. 
A  little  flame  is  seen  flickering  in  camp,  and  the  cook's 
call  is  heard  :  <4  Roll  out !"  You  jump  up,  but  before 
you  have  time  to  dress  and  pack  your  bed  the  second 
call  is  heard  :  "  Breakfast !"  You  carry  your  bedding 
to  the  wagon  and  dump  it  down  somewhere.  Having 


462  SHEPHERD  DOGS. 

washed  your  face  and  hands,  you  take  a  place  near  the 
fire.  Some  one  throws  on  a  bush  to  make  a  blaze,  and 
you  eat  a  hearty  meal  of  fried  meat,  bread  and  coffee. 
Long  before  you  are  ready  the  sheep  are  on  the  movep 
and  break  up  their  camp.  If  they  travel  in  the  right 
direction  you  can  let  them  go,  but  if  they  are  wandering 
one  man  must  start  at  once  and  take  charge.  The  other 
boys  finish  breakfast,  fill  their  canteens  with  water,  grab 
their  sticks  and  follow  the  herd.  The  cook  is  left  in  sole 
possession.  He  must  wash  up,  reload  the  wagon,  feed 
and  water  the  team,  and  then  follow  the  trail  of  the  herd 
and  be  up  with  them  in  time  to  cook  dinner. 

Shepherd  Dogs. 

Well  bred  and  well  broken  dogs  fetch  a  good  price, 
if  you  can  hold  them  till  you  find  a  purchaser  who  is 
really  in  want  of  such  an  animal.  The  day-dream  of  a 
herder  is  to  get  a  dog  that  will  watch  the  sheep  at  night, 
for  to  wake  and  hallo  even  a  few  times  makes  a  bad 
night,  and  no  one  need  envy  the  man  whose  fate  com 
pels  him  to  walk,  half-chilled,  round  and  round  a  lot  of 
fractious  and  pig-headed  sheep  ;  to  find  the  same  brutes 
leading  off  again  and  again,  bunches  watching  him,  and 
standing  still  as  statues  in  his  presence,  but  stealing  out 
from  the  corner  on  which  he  has  just  turned  his  back.  If 
he  iits  down  on  a  stone  for  ten  minutes  the  whole  work 


PATIENCE    AND   PERSISTENCY.  463 

may  have  to  be  done  over  again.  He  comes  on  a  band 
that  he  has  already  headed  back  several  times.  They 
wait  till  the  last  minute  and  trot  into  the  herd  just  about 
a  yard  in  front  of  him  ;  so  soon  as  he  is  past  they  walk 
out  again. 

You  must  take  matters  slowly.  Impatience  would  do 
more  harm  than  good.  The  sheep  you  drove  in  with 
a  rush  would  startle  ten  times  their  number  among  those 
which,  perhaps,  had  been  lying  down.  They  then  pack 
and  squeeze  on  the  center — heads  inward  and  tails  out 
ward.  The  chief  culprits  have  knowingly  secured  places 
quite  out  of  reach.  The  lot  can  not  remain  so,  and  to 
lie  down  must  open  out.  You  have  to  leave  them. 

Quietness,  patience  and  persistency — these  are  the 
cardinal  qualities.  Keep  on  turning  them  back  until 
fchey  are  all  lying  down.  You  may  then  go  to  bed. 

In  the  first  place,  use  judgment  in  choosing  your  bed 
ground.  Have  room  enough  for  the  herd  to  lie  down 
without  crowding.  They  will  lie  more  quietly  with  elbow 
room.  Any  place  does  not  suit  a  sheep's  idea  of  comfort. 

If  a  big  wether  sees  a  smaller  sheep  in  a  spot  which 
he  fancies,  he  will  touch  him  with  a  fore  foot  as  a  signal 
to  clear  out.  If  the  sheep  will  not  take  the  hint  the  big 
one  will  butt  him  out. 

On  several  occasions,  when  the  sheep  had  been  par 
ticularly  well  fed  and  were  proportionately  content,  they 
spread  out  their  ranks  till  in  the  morning  they  were  seen 


464  EVERY  BAND  NEEDS  DOGS, 

lying  all  around  the  men's  beds,  and  quite  close  thereto. 
But  at  these  times  they  did  not  care  to  feed  at  night. 

Properly  handled,  sheep  like  nothing  better  than  to 
carry  out  their  role,  which  is  to  grow  wool  and  grow  fat. 
It  is  for  the  men  to  help  them  to  do  so. 

Good  dogs  are  of  great  assistance  on  a  drive.  They 
are  scarce  in  California  in  the  early  Summer,  when  every 
band  going  to  the  hills  needs  two  or  three  dogs.  Some 
owners  pretend  they  would  rather  be  without  dogs. 

It  is  possible  that  in  driving  fat  sheep  on  The  Plains 
the  man  would  work  the  herd  more  quietly  than  would 
the  average  dog,  but  the  dog  is  a  necessity  where  the 
ground  is  rough  and  covered  with  bush,  and  if  the  sheep, 
attracted  by  some  new  food  they  are  fond  of,  are  liable 
to  scatter,  dogs  get  them  in  more  quickly  than  any  man 
can  do,  and  by  turning  those  heading  in  a  wrong  direc 
tion  at  once  save  time  and  save  the  sheep  an  unnecessary 
journey. 

Sheep,  too,  will  mind  a  single  dog  when  they  would 
not  be  controlled  by  several  men.  They  watch  the  lat 
ter,  and  dodge  them  so  soon  as  their  attention  is  engaged 
elsewhere.  A  dog  which  has  nipped  them  once  or  twice 
instills  a  wholesome  fear,  and  for  him  they  will  turn  at 
once. 

In  bad  hands  a  dog  is  liable  to  be  rough.  A  lazy  man 
will  spoil  his  dog  by  over-working  him,  The  dog  soon 
learns  bad  tricks,  when  he  feels  that  he  is  misused,  and 


THE   PRAIRIE   DOG.  465 

saves  himself  by  cutting  across  little  bunches,   instead 
of  going  outside  of  all. 


The  Prairie  Dog. 

Prairie  dogs  are  not  common  in  Nevada.  There  are 
plenty  on  the  prairies  in  Wyoming  and  Montana. 

Their  bark  is  more  like  a  chirrup. 

They  are  fat  and  pretty  little  beasts,  as  seen  sitting 
upon  the  mounds  which  surround  the  mouths  of  their 
burrows.  They  eat  the  grass  very  close  around  their  vil 
lage,  but  they  are  otherwise  harmless. 

On  the  other  hand,  as  they  are  of  no  use  to  you  as 
food,  you  naturally  slight  them. 


CHAPTER  XIV. 

DRIVING  SHEEP  IN  IDAHO — THE  LARAMIE  PLAINS — NEAR 
THE  GREAT  SALT  LAKE — HOW  TO  MAKE  MONEY  ON 
SHEEP  IN  UTAH. 

As  you  get  into  Idaho  there  is  a  marked  improvement 
in  the  country.  Grass  and  water  are  more  plentiful. 

There  are  cottonwood  and  birch  trees  all  along  the 
streams  and  in  fringes  on  the  hillsides.  Wherever  a  hol 
low  has  retained  snow  after  its  general  disappearance 
from  the  ridges  of  the  hills  and  from  open  spots  the  late 
moisture  has  encouraged  the  growth  of  every  thing  that 
is  green. 

But  the  Autumn  is  decidedly  fading  into  early  Win 
ter.  The  higher  ranges  have  been  once  or  twice  capped 
with  snow  ;  the  leaves  are  changing  from  green  into  col 
ors  more  lively  ;  the  sun,  even  in  the  middle  of  the  day, 
is  occasionally  feeble,  having  probably  over-worked  itself 
in  scorching  us  through  the  Summer.  It  is  high  time  to 

(466) 


THE  LARAMIE  PLAINS.  407 

consider  where  the  sheep  shall  be  wintered.  Your  choice 
lies  between  taking  them  south  to  the  country  which  bor 
ders  the  Salt  Lake  and  pushing  on  either  to  Green  River 
or  to  the  Laramie  Plains.  The  Green  River  country  is 
said  to  have  been  overstocked  for  many  years,  and  though 
ranges  may  still  be  found,  good  ones  are  scarce. 

Without  plenty  of  feed  a  band  of  sheep,  more  par 
ticularly  one  which  has  traveled  up  north  from  a  warmer 
climate,  would  have  a  poor  chance  in  the  extreme  cold 
of  these  parts. 

The   Laramie   Plains* 

These  comprise  a  portion  of  the  highest  table  land 
between  the  oceans.  Although  subject  to  as  bitter  cold 
as  any  other  place  in  the  Northwest,  its  exposed  position, 
liable  to  be  swept  by  strong  winds,  enables  stock  to  live, 
for  the  reason  that,  the  snow  being  blown  off,  the  herb 
age  is  laid  bare.  This  is  the  case  in  ordinary  winters. 

Animals  which  start  healthy  and  in  good  condition 
pull  through  on  these  plains  fairly  well.  But  in  every 
season  there  are  severe  snow  storms  and  piercing  winds, 
during  which  it  is  impossible  to  take  out  sheep  and  when 
cattle  and  horses  can  not  do  better  for  themselves  than 
to  turn  tail  to  the  blast  and  drift  slowly  before  the  storm. 

The  chinook,  which  is  a  warm  wind,  blows  at  times 
and  melts  the  snow,  but  the  greatest  danger  to  all  stock 


468  NEAR  SALT  LAKE. 

is  when  such  a  partial  thaw  is  followed  by  sharp  frost 
The  surface  of  the  snow  is  then  ice-bound,  and  it  is  im 
possible  for  any  animal  to  care  for  itself.  To  meet  these 
cases  a  sufficient  quantity  of  hay  must  be  provided  for 
the  sheep.  If  this  is  not  done,  the  chances  are  that  the 
whole  herd  will  be  starved  and  frozen  to  death.  Even 
with  hay  in  hand,  it  is  not  always  a  good  plan  to  feed  it 
to  the  herd,  for  they  will  not  in  future  take  the  trouble 
to  hunt  for  themselves,  but  idle  all  the  day  and  wait  for 
the  hay  in  the  evening — a  proceeding  that  is  exasperat 
ing  to  the  most  even-tempered  herder,  but  all  in  a  piece 
with  the  general  behavior  of  sheep. 


Near  Salt  Lake. 

The  climate  of  the  country  lying  to  the  south  of  and 
surrounding  Salt  Lake  is  much  milder  than  that  of  the 
nearest  portions  of  Idaho  and  Wyoming.  The  snow  does 
not  lie  deeply,  and  the  plains,  besides  grass,  bear  the 
white  sage,  which  is  very  nutritious.  The  latter,  after 
it  has  been  nipped  by  frost,  is  apparently  much  relished 
by  all  stock. 

A  light  fall  of  snow  here  is  an  advantage,  as  it  per 
mits  the  herds  to  push  out  into  the  plains,  which  are 
waterless.  The  sheep  can  eat  snow,  and  the  herders 
melt  it. 


HOW  TO  MAKE  MONEY  IN  UTAH.         469 

On  these  trips  the  herders  live  in  a  small  canvas 
house,  which  is  built  onto  the  wagon.  In  this  there  is  a 
stove.  The  bed  is  on  a  low  shelf  across  the  hind  end. 
The  entrance  is  on  one  side.  With  the  traps  and  sup 
plies  of  a  couple  of  men,  two  horses  only  are  required. 
The  wagon  does  not  move  every  day,  and  often  the  jour 
neys  are  short. 


How  to  Make   Money  in  Utah. 

To  men  who  are  not  averse  to  a  solitary  life  and  do 
not  fear  rough  times  and  exposure  this  wintering  with 
sheep  may  be  tolerable. 

A  man  who  understands  the  work,  and  can  be  trusted 
to  do  it,  should  always  be  able  to  secure  something  bet 
ter  than  good  wages.  There  are  plenty  of  men  in  Utah 
who,  having  saved  money,  would  like  to  invest  it  in  a 
band  of  sheep.  The  sheep,  to  live,  must  travel  Summer 
and  Winter.  It  is  impossible  for  a  man  resident  in  town 
and  with  a  business  to  see  after  his  sheep  in  person.  He 
must  look  around  either  for  a  herder  to  manage  for  him 
or  a  joint  owner  to  share  in  the  speculation. 

The  current  expenses  are  not  heavy.  Two  men  can 
through  the  year  easily  drive  2,000  or  3,000  sheep,  with 
a  little  help  at  lambing  time.  The  returns  from  wool 


47°  SALT   LAKE   CITY. 

and  increase  are  not  exaggerated  at  25  per  cent.  As  the 
profit  with  sheep,  much  more  than  with  other  stock,  is 
dependent  on  the  care  and  success  of  the  men  in  charge, 
the  man  who  knows  has  a  power  which  in  some  cases 
transfers  the  flock  from  the  owner's  hands  into  his  own 
in  three  or  four  years. 

The  alternative  to  the  proprietor  who  can  not  accom 
pany  his  own  herd  often  lies  between  seeing  his  property 
destroyed  through  ignorance  or  transferred  through  un 
scrupulous  acumen. 

There  is  a  good  opening  for  any  man  thoroughly  up 
in  sheep  to  make  his  way  in  Utah. 

A  short  stay  in  Salt  Lake  City  satisfies  most  persons. 
It  certainly  may  be  called  a  pretty  town,  the  trees  and 
gardens  having  a  good  effect.  But  how  long  would  the 
latter  be  retained  should  the  land  become  valuable  ?  At 
present  worse  places  can  easily  be  found,  and  when  the 
burning  question  is  settled  the  town  may  start  afresh* 


I  think  I  have  given  a  truthful  picture  of  the  manner 
of  life  which  must  be  followed  on  the  trail. 

It  is  not  everywhere  so  dry  and  dusty  as  in  Nevada. 
But,  with  due  allowances  for  the  more  pleasant  aspects 
of  affairs  in  journeying  through  a  better  grassed  and  bet 
ter  watered  country,  any  one  can  fancy  for  himself  how 
far  he  is  likely  to  appreciate  the  life.  There  may  be  dif- 


AU    REVOIR,    READERc  4/f 

ficulties  special  to  that  portion  of  the  territories  lying 
farther  north,  owing  to  heavier  timber  and  bush,  into 
which  sheep  might  stray,  and  to  the  greater  cold  and 
deeper  snow  which  prevail  through  a  longer  Winter. 

But  wherever  it  is  followed  the  business  of  driving  or 
looking  after  sheep  is  rude  and  tiresome.  The  outdoor 
life  is  healthy  and  exhilarating.  The  roughing  does  not 
show  too  disagreeably. 

Young  men  who  are  fitted  out  with  good  spirits  and 
manliness  have  nothing  to  dread. 

The  West  is  a  Land  of  Hope. 

It  is  well  to  go  and  try  it  for  yourself. 


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